


Not enough

by PaxterHobber



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Chastity Device, Collars, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Derek, Fix-It, Flogging, Fluff and Angst, Food Issues, Gen, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Police Officer Derek Hale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Safeword Use, Spanking, Stiles Stilinski Has Low Self-Esteem, Sub Stiles Stilinski, Teasing, mild Self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-11-12 08:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 59,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxterHobber/pseuds/PaxterHobber
Summary: It was supposed to be a standard drug bust. Derek was not ready for what they found in the basement. Or rather, who….





	1. Chapter 1

“Sir, we have a situation in the basement,” Reyes says uncomfortably and Derek turns to the blonde. She’s new on the force and this is her first big drug bust. Her eyes are a little wide and Derek sighs.

“What?”

“One of them barricaded himself downstairs. You should probably see for yourself.”

Derek grunts internally and follows her through the house, taking care to step over the evidence markers being set up by the team of forensics already swarming the house. And here he was, thinking about how smoothly this went. They’ve been planning this bust for months, painstakingly investigating all the leads. Once they got the intel on the leader, the rest was easy. They haven’t been met with any resistance and it was over in matter of minutes. Derek was already looking forward to microwaving some of the left-over pizza in his tiny apartment, kicking his feet up after a long case. He’s not in the mood for this.

Three agents are standing uncertainly by the basement door, murmuring quietly among each other, and Derek feels his irritation grow. A whole swat team and can’t take care of one junkie?

“He’s got a gun,” Vernon warns, as Derek starts to descend the stairs. “I don’t think it’s wolfsbane, though.”

As the only werewolf on the team, he’s always sent to deal with these shitstorms. It’s been a long day, though, and Derek’s not known for his patience and negotiation skills. He feels his claw itching to be let out but he doesn’t give in.

It’s dim in the basement but it’s not hard to locate the man, even if he didn’t have his werewolf vision. At the sight of him, Derek feels all the anger seep right away and his breath catches in his throat.

The boy, and it is a boy, looking hardly over eighteen, is crouching behind some boxes, clutching the gun in shaking hands. His breath is coming out in short little panicked pants and his heart is hammering loudly in his chest.

There is a sturdy looking black collar around his neck and Derek’s heart drops. He’s a sub. And he’s clearly dropping. The acrid smell of fear and misery leaves a sour taste in Derek’s mouth and he takes a deep calming breath.

Slowly he walks to the other side of the cluttered basement. There’s a stained mattress tucked by one of the walls with no pillow or blanket and Derek fights hard not to think about it too much at the moment. The boy’s eyes follow him anxiously and then just stare in confusion as Derek slides down to sit on his haunches.

After a long silence, during which the sub doesn’t show any signs of calming down, Derek finally speaks up.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, trying hard to make his voice sound calm and confident. Still, the boy flinches at the sound. It takes him a long time to answer, clearly fighting through the drop.

“I, uh, no?”

“Good, that’s good.” Derek immediately notices the way his breath hitches at the praise and he adds, “You’re doing great,” just for good measure. The boy’s wide scared eyes turn to Derek in disbelief.

“What’s your name?”

“Stiles,” he answers, barely a whisper.

“Stiles, is the gun loaded?”

“Yes, I- I think so…”

“Okay, I want you to slowly place it on the floor and slide it towards me. Be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

With a frown of concentration, Stiles obliges in jerky movements, laying the gun on the concrete floor with trembling fingers. He attempts to slide it but it barely moves on the rough floor.

“Good boy,” Derek says and a whole-body shiver runs through Stiles. He folds his legs beneath him, sitting down on his heels, and bows his head, clasping his hands behind his back in a posture of submission.

“I’m coming over,” Derek warns as he slowly gets up. Keeping his eyes on the sub the entire time, he comes closer in a slow, steady pace. Stiles doesn’t move though; he keeps his eyes on the floor, shivering slightly.

Derek takes the gun and unloads it. Once he’s sure it’s harmless, he kicks it into a corner and takes a few more steps towards the sub. When he’s able to take a closer look at him, he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from making an angry sound.

Stiles is filthy, covered in sweat and grime and who knows what. Even clad as he is threadbare t-shirt, it is obvious that he’s underfed, his collar bones protruding sharply. What’s worse though is the state of his neck. The skin under the collar is red and puffy, scabbing in places where it broke the skin.

He knows he should call for backup and have the sub escorted, now that the situation has been diffused, but can’t stop his hand as it runs soothingly through the boy’s matted dirty hair.

“I’ve got you, you’re good,” he whispers and Stiles exhales a shaky breath and rests his forehead on Derek’s thigh. Already, some of the tension is clearly gone, and his breathing starts to deepen. _Oh, fuck it_ , Derek thinks, as he indulges himself and keeps petting the boy. For a moment, he contemplates removing the atrocious collar but then decides against it. He doesn’t want to freak out Stiles, who is clearly sinking deeper. God knows he deserves a little peace and quiet.

Derek waits patiently, murmuring praise, and stroking his hair. It takes a long time but finally he notices Stiles starts to shuffle and twitch a little.

“Are you ready to come out?” Derek asks and after a short hesitation, Stiles gives him a little nod. Slowly, he gets up on his stiff legs. He doesn’t look at Derek, only joins his wrists in front of him and offers them to Derek, clearly expecting to be handcuffed.

“There’s no need for that,” Derek dismisses. He’s barely holding up, swaying a little on his feet and Derek puts a steadying hand on his lower back as they make their way upstairs.

He escorts him all the way to the ambulance, already waiting on the street.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers, so quiet Derek probably wouldn’t have heard him, had he not been a werewolf.

“You’re welcome,” he replies and gives the medic a stern look. “Be gentle with him.”

Then the door is banged shut and the ambulance drives off. Derek watches it for a while, lost in thought, wandering what’s going to happen to the boy now. He’s going to be stitched up and interrogated thoroughly. Hopefully, he won’t be charged for the little stunt he pulled in the basement. Derek could probably put in a word on his mental state. He’ll be probably assigned a mandatory Dom for a while to take care of his needs, and then just released

Still, it’s going to suck, Derek thinks. How long has he been held here? Does he have a place to go? A family to take care of him?

He barely notices Boyd join him by his side, and flinches a little when a big hand claps his shoulder.

“Those fuckers,” Derek lets out his frustration, not turning to the younger man. “Seriously, what’s wrong with people.” He feels shaky and jittery. Seeing an abused sub like this and not being able to take care of him, it goes against his very core.

“I hear ya,” Boyd answers. “Wanna grab a beer?”

“No, not really. I think I’ll just go home.”

“Hey, he’s gonna be alright. We did everything we could, you know that right?”

“It’s not enough,” Derek murmurs more to himself than to anybody else. “It never is.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really surprised by the positive reaction to this fic so I decided to turn it into a longer story. Derek will appear soon, I promise. Enjoy!

Stiles feels the urge to curl himself into a ball and find a dark corner to hide in. It’s too bright here. The light pierces even through his closed eyelids, and he’s feeling more exposed than if he were naked.

He tugs again at the cuff around his wrist and it rattles where it connects to the bedrail. The cuff itself is lined with soft fur, clearly made to be comfortable, but it does nothing to settle or ground him.

An IV runs from the back of his hand and Stiles watches the half-full bag of clear liquid, as if staring at it could make it drip any faster. Why is to slow? Each drop seems to take forever, making Stiles want crawl out of his skin. He needs to get out of here _now._

To add to his misery, his bare neck itches like a bitch. He reaches with his unrestricted hand to scratch at it but of course the nurse has to walk in at that exact moment.

“Stop it,” she barks at him. “Do I need to tie both of your hands?”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes tight to stop the tears, his breath hitching in his chest. He wants… He wants that soothing hand in his hair again, wants to hear again that he’s good, even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He keeps replaying what happened in the basement over and over in his head, determined to burn it permanently in his memory. He hasn’t floated like this in a long time. Even thinking about it, about the dark-haired Dom with green eyes and kind voice, makes him warm all over again. This memory’s going to help him over countless drops to come, he’s sure of it.

The drip ends eventually, just like everything bad always ends even though at the time it feels like it never will. The nurse comes to take out the IV and is followed by two men with an air of authority about them. There’s little doubt in Stiles head about their orientation and it sets his teeth on edge.

They drag two chairs next to his bed and pin him down with a stern look. They introduce themselves as agent this and agent that, the names going one ear in and out the other.

“Are you ready to give a statement now?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, Sir.” Stiles quickly corrects himself when he sees the dark look on the agent’s face. He’s still a little dizzy and lightheaded, and there’s a voice in the back of his head that maybe he should get a lawyer or something, but he really just wants to get this over with. To get out of here. Not that he has a place to go but anywhere is better than here, in this sterile cage.

The agent sets up a recording device and starts the questioning. Stiles answers as honestly as he can. He’s just too wrung out to try to weave some sort of lie. The truth is always simpler and if he’s in trouble…well, he deserves everything coming his way.

They ask him about Theo and how long he’s known him and about the men he hung out with. They ask him if he knew about the drugs and Stiles shakes his head. To be honest, Stiles did have a suspicion that Theo was involved in something illegal but it’s not like he ever told him anything. Stiles spent most of his time locked down there anyway, being punished for one thing or another. Stiles really was a slow learner.

Soon they seem satisfied with his answers and start to get up. Stiles can’t help but look at them in confusion.

“Wait, so that’s it? I’m not arrested for… the gun thing?”

“No. It was in self-defence and Agent Hale said you cooperated. You’re free to go but you are to report at the center for a minimum of three sessions.”

“Okay. Yes. Sir.” Stiles says even though he knows that’s not going to happen. There’s no chance in hell he’s going to submit to some stranger in a fucking clinic. Finally, they write down his phone number and address if they need him to testify, and Stiles quickly makes up some digits and the street name. It’s not like has a phone. Or a home.

He’s released an hour later, wearing his old ratted clothes again. At least the weather is getting warmer, he thinks, as he steps out of the hospital and looks around the busy street, as if he could find a clue and or a hint on what to do next.

He ends up wandering for hours, walking aimlessly throughout the town he once knew. It seems like forever since he’s really been out. Not much has changed, though. Some shops have closed, others have opened, life goes on.

The sun is starting to set when he finds himself on the familiar street. His feet are killing him and all his muscles are trembling from exhaustion. _Oh, fuck it_ , he thinks as he rings the bell with a shaking hand. He’s really running out of options here.

The door opens and Stiles takes a step back in surprise. A pretty brown-haired girl is looking at him curiously. Stiles’ attention is immediately drawn to the elegant thin collar around her neck, decorated with sparkling stones.

“Hi,” she says when Stiles just keeps staring.

“Um, hi, I was looking for…”

“Ali, who is it?” comes from the inside of the apartment and the next moment, Scott’s head peeks in. “Stiles? Oh my god, what the hell!”

Stiles doesn’t get another word out before he is crushed in a hug. Scott has grown up in the past year, Stiles thinks, gotten wider and stronger. Or maybe it’s just that Stiles has gotten thin and frail. Nonetheless, he lets himself be pulled close. The hug is perfect and when Scott places a protective hand at the back of his neck, he feels he might start to bawl if he’d let his guard down just the tiniest bit.

Instead, he quickly pulls back and wipes his palms nervously on his pants. “I’m sorry to show up like this but…”

“Are you crazy? It’s no problem. Oh, this is Allison. Allison, this is Stiles.”

“Hi,” Stiles waves awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she smiles and a cute dimple appears in her cheek. “I just finished some lasagne, if you’re hungry.”

She leads him to the kitchen and Stiles looks around with interest. The place has changed from when he shared it with Scott. Their old beat-up furniture has been replaced by matching Ikea sets and there are flowers and decorative thingies in every corner. The homely atmosphere makes Stiles feel even more out of place, in his filthy ripped jeans and bruises around his neck.

Stiles tries to pace himself but he still devours two huge servings before Allison can finish a half of hers. He sees them giving him worried looks but can’t bring himself to slow down.

“So,” Scott says finally, when Stiles leans back, huffing. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to drop by, see how you’re doing…”

“Uh-huh,” Scott says and it’s clear he’s not buying any of Stiles’ bullshit, which – fair enough.

“And maybe… stay for a couple of nights? Just until I figure something out?”

“Of course you can stay. What happened?”

“I, uh…  it’s complicated,” he mumbles and the look on Scott’s faces hurts. They used to be best friends. He does deserve at least some explanation for Stiles’ radio silence in the past year, Stiles knows that, he just… he can’t take any more judgemental looks right now.

Scott doesn’t press and they clean the table and dishes in silence.

“I’ll make up the couch for you,” Scott says once everything is spotless. Stiles gingerly sits down on the edge of the couch. He’s exhausted. It seems like today will never end. Keeping his eyes open seems like too monumental a task right now.

He jerks awake from his exhausted slumber and hears hushed whispering from the hall. Even though they are clearly trying to keep their voices down, Stiles can tell immediately Scott and Allison are arguing, the urgency in their tones carries to the living room even though Stiles can’t make out the words. It’s not that hard to guess what’s that about, anyway. A heavy feeling settles in Stiles’ gut and he wrings his arms nervously.

A moment later, Scott comes in, carrying some blankets and a pillow. He throws them on the couch and sits down with a sigh.

“I’m gonna be super honest with you,” he starts and Stiles slumps. He hugs his knees to his chest and just nods dejectedly. It was a stupid idea to come here. Can’t really blame Allison for not wanting him here. He just needs one night. He’s too tired to think straight right now.

“You look like shit,” Scott says and Stiles snaps his head up in surprise.

“Huh?”

“Do you need… I don’t know, can I do something for you? You know I’m with Allison but you could kneel for me, if that’d help.”

“What? No- No, I’m fine.”

“You’re definitely not _fine_.”

“Yeah okay, I mean, I’m not going to drop or anything.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

Scott seems mollified for the moment and just slumps back. They sit in a silence for a moment and then Scott gets up and starts making up the couch.

“What about your dad?” he asks and Stiles cringes. He can’t go back to his dad. Not after everything he’s done. His dad is better off without him.

“It’s….” _complicated_ , he wants to say again even though he knows how stupid that sounds. “I’ll talk to him, I just need some time to get my shit together.” That’s yet another promise he has no intention of keeping today and the guilt sits heavy in his stomach.

“Okay. You can stay however long you need. Get some rest.” Scott pats his shoulder awkwardly and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers to the empty room and finally lays down. It takes him some time to find the right position, pressed into the backrest of the couch with the blankets wrapped tight around him. It’s not the same as being held but it’s close enough for him to finally fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags, so beware. Namely for self-harm (nothing graphic though)

The apartment is empty when he wakes up the following morning. Shit, how hard must have he been sleeping to miss them? Slowly he shuffles to kitchen. There’s a little note stuck to the fridge using one of the colourful touristy magnets. Stiles ignores the note and inspects the magnets that are lined in perfect rows. Venice. Rome. Paris. Barcelona. They must have spent the summer in Europe, Stiles realizes, and for some stupid reason it makes his throat close up.

Back in high school, when bored out of their minds during chemistry classes, they used to make up these crazy plans for backpacking across Europe, hitch hiking when they could, sleeping in cheap motels or under the stars… but that’s what they were. Stupid plans. Fantasies. So why did these ugly kitsch magnets make Stiles want to **

Finally, Stiles turns his attention to the note and reads, _gone for classes, be back in the evening_. He crumples the piece of paper and throws it on the kitchen table. Of course. Busy college student Scott with his beautiful girlfriend and trips to Europe.

 _Jealous much?_ a voice in his head sneers and Stiles clenches his teeth. What is a wrong with him? He loves Scott. He deserves all the nice things. Unlike Stiles.

The weather outside does nothing to brighten up his mood. The drizzling rain drumming on the window just makes him want to curl up back on the couch. He could probably use a day off, he thinks. Get some rest. Recharge some energy. Find his footing. He’ll start tomorrow. He’ll make an action plan, start looking for a job, get his life in order. He deserves one single day off, after everything, doesn’t he?

Having made the decision lifts some weight of his chest. He hates decisions, in general. Haven’t made all that many in his life but those that he did sucked.

His stomach growls loudly and Stiles flinches at the sound, not really expecting to feel hungry again, especially after yesterday’s dinner. He finds some toast bread in the pantry and wolfs down two slices before he can talk himself out of it. He washes the dry bread down with two glasses of water from the tap and then returns to his nest of blankets and turns on TV.

Out of the hundred of channels, Stiles can’t find anything that would keep his attention. There’s restlessness under his skin that he can’t seem to shake off. He tries to go back to sleep but his mind just won’t shut up.

 _Lazy, useless, piece of shit,_ the voice keeps whispering and there is no escaping it, even when Stiles hides his head under the pillow.

Finally, he just gives up and gets up. There must be something for him to do. After even a cursory inspection of the apartment, it becomes clear just how clean and kept it is. In the end he wipes the non-existent dust from every surface and vacuums the whole apartment, making sure to get every forgotten corner.

It seems like the day will never end. When Scott and Allison finally make it home, it’s already dark outside and Stiles has been sitting at the table, staring at a single spot for hours, practicing his breathing exercises.

“We have a TV, you know?” Scott says cautiously when he sees him and Stiles startles at the sound of his voice. “Or do you want me to get you a laptop? I could probably get a used one from a friend of mine.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine. Really. Just… maybe you have some chores for me?”

“Stiles,” Scott frowns. “You don’t need to do anything. I’m happy to help you out.”

Stiles wants to groan in frustration but instead he just makes himself nod and whisper a little _thank you_. Allison starts to work on the dinner and shoos Stiles away the moment he offers to help, telling him to get some rest, and Stiles has to bite his tongue so hard he tastes a tang of blood to keep himself from snapping back.

They have dinner together and once again, Stiles wastes barely any time on chewing, not caring that he’s burned the roof of his mouth in the process. He hasn’t eaten any lunch, too afraid to just help himself to the fridge, and now his hunger is making it hard for him to slow down.

Allison and Scott turn in early and Stiles assumes his position on the couch. He doesn’t feel anymore rested than the day before and it still takes him hours to finally fall asleep.

 

The next day, Stiles gets up with renewed enthusiasm. He’s going to take charge of his own life. And the first step, find a job. Any job. He needs a steady income to find his own place. The next step… Stiles comes up blank but that doesn’t matter. He’ll figure it out as he goes.

He spends the day walking around town, wandering from one fast food place to another, looking for signs hanging on the door, sometimes asking around. Other times, when the person behind the counter gives him an annoyed look, he can’t bring himself to ask. The words get stuck in his throat and he quickly slinks away like the coward he is.

It’s not like anyone is eager to hire a practically homeless college drop out, anyway. And an uncollared sub on top of that. These are always a liability. Mostly too unstable, unable to take care of themselves, dropping at the most inconvenient of times.

“How did it go?” Scott asks in the evening, as Stiles sits dejectedly at the table, once again helplessly looking at Allison making the dinner.

“Not great,” he mumbles and Scott hums contemplatively. “You need a different approach. Everything’s done online now. Let’s write you a resume and send some emails.”

They spend the rest of the evening huddled over Scott’s laptop and for the first time in a long time, Stiles feels a little lighter as he wriggles himself into his favorite position on the couch and falls asleep immediately.

 

It doesn’t get any better though. Every evening Stiles looks at Scott hopefully but he just shakes his head. No new emails. Not even a rejection, and isn’t that even more frustrating.

Way too soon, Stiles feels himself come apart at the seams. The heavy feeling of guilt has taken a forefront in his mind and just won’t go away. It seems to grow with every wasted hour, every time Allison or Scott push him away from every chore, telling him to take it easy.

It escalates on the fourth day. He’s alone in the apartment, again, and getting himself a glass of water. His fingers slip on the smooth surface of the glass and it goes flying to the floor, shattering to a million pieces.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Stiles shouts and impulsively, without really thinking it through, he slaps himself hard. For a moment, everything goes still. Stiles is shocked at first at his own action, but then the pain registers and for the first time since the basement, his mind goes quiet. The throbbing pain radiating from his cheek gives him a single point of focus, and a little of the guilt in his chest eases away.

He stands there for a long time, poking at his aching face, breathing deeply, and then he just gets the broom and calmly cleans up the mess.

In the evening, he apologizes to Scott for breaking one of his glasses and everything seems to return to normal.

 

His little episode of serenity doesn’t last long, though, and soon his anxiety returns with renewed fervor. Two days later, he’s brushing his teeth with the spare toothbrush Scott gave him and he knocks over the cup with Scott’s and Allison’s toothbrushes, sending them to the floor with a loud clatter. It’s such a small thing, really, Stiles realizes that, but he can’t help the frustration and anger that well up in his mind. He bites the back of forearm, really sinking his teeth in.

Pain flares up but this time it does nothing to silence the turmoil in his head. Instead, he knows he’s fucked up the moment he sees the marks on his skin. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s losing control and now he’s going to bruise in the perfect shape of his teeth arch.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur as Stiles hovers at the edge of a nasty drop. He gives in to his desire to hide, squeezing himself into one of the corner behind an armchair. It’s a tight fit but the confined space does help a little, even though is vision is still blurry around the edges and his breath is coming in short gasps.

The sound of door opening brings him back to reality. He hears the careless chatter between Scott and Allison come to a stop.

“Stiles?” Scott calls out, worry clear in his voice. A moment later, the armchair creeks and Scott peeks over the backrest into Stiles’ hiding place.

“Are you okay, buddy? Wanna come out of there?”

Stiles can’t get his muddled thoughts together enough to answer. “Alright,” Scott sighs. “Come out. Now.” His dom authority is clear in his voice and Stiles couldn’t be more grateful for the command. He’s good at following orders. As long as he does what he’s told, he’s being good. He wants to be good.

When he finally extricates himself from his hideout, Scott immediately grabs by the ruff of his neck and gently but firmly leads him to the sofa. There he pushes him

to kneel on the floor and Stiles sinks down without protest.

Scott sits on the sofa next to him but doesn’t say anything. At the edge of his consciousness he hears steps come and go, quiet murmuring, Allison’s soft and soothing voice, but it all blurs as time jumps and skips.

Finally he gets himself together enough to blink blearily and look up at Scott with wet eyes.

“Are you with me?” Scott asks, his voice once again soft and worried, and Stiles just nods. “What the hell, Stiles. You said you weren’t going to drop.”

“I,-”

“You’re going to the center tomorrow and get yourself taken care of, do you understand?”

“But-”

“First thing in the morning. I don’t want to hear it. Don’t you dare tell me you’re fine!”

Stiles nods again, unable to argue in his sorry state, even though he wants to scream and cry and plead. He doesn’t want to go but knows an ultimatum when hears one. “Okay,” he rasps, finally finding his voice. “Okay, I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just so that we're clear - I hope you're not expecting any intricate, well-woven plot. No? Good. Because this is basically going to be just a shitload of angst, hurt, comfort and eventually smut. Also, Derek's gonna appear in the next chapter. Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long:)

Derek takes the stairs to the center by two, in hurry a to be out of there. He never liked this place, as much as he understands its importance. For him, it’s just… too much. The emotions tend to fly high here. The smells of stress and euphoria all mingle together and he automatically scrunches his nose in dislike when he enters the door. He doesn’t know how his sister can stand it.

He spots her immediately. She’s tapping something into a computer with her eyebrows creased in concentration. Good, at least he won’t have to wait until she’s done with a client.

“Laura! Ready for lunch?”

She looks up at him apologetically from behind the screen. “Derek, shit, I completely forgot. I’m booked full until four.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“We always eat lunch together on Wednesday.”

“I’m sorry, really! Look, I’ll put a notification in my calendar for the next week. See?”

“Fine. I was going to take you to the fancy sushi place. But, whatever. Enjoy your vending machine sandwich.”

“Love you, too, bro,” she smacks a kiss on his cheek and he rolls his eyes in exasperation, even though he can’t help the small smile stretching his lips.

“Take care.”

As he leaves the building, he just stares around for a while, feeling a little lost. Here goes his favorite part of his whole week. The disappointment is heavy to swallow and he feels all but little pathetic. That’s his life, really. Work, meals eaten alone in his car or in the silence of his apartment, and sleep. His parents would be proud, he thinks bitterly. Definitely not surprised, though.

It’s still quite early. He could still go back to the station and join his team for lunch. They usually get a burrito from the tiny place next door and then eat it in the common room, laughing loudly, poking fun at each other. Derek’s only joined them once, and the awkwardness was palpable. All jokes seemed to fall flat, there was a lot of nervous throat clearing, and ‘ _so…_.’s. Derek would like to think it’s because he’s their boss but it’s more likely just him.

By now, he’s gotten used to people finding him intimidating, so he just rolls with it. Uses it to his advantage. And he’s angry most of the times, anyway, so why not.

Finally, he makes himself leave the center’s front door and heads back to his car, debating internally if he’s in the mood to sit in a restaurant alone, glaring at anyone who’d dare give him a pitying look. He would love some sushi, though.

As he turns the corner to where he parked his car, something catches his attention and all thoughts of food are forgotten. There’s a figure crouching against the rough cement wall of the center, his face in his hands. He looks utterly miserable and defeated.

Immediately, alarms go off in his head and he slowly approaches the stranger.

“Hey there.”

His head snaps up and a pair of terrified amber eyes turns to Derek, who takes a step back in surprise. Of course he recognizes the boy immediately. How could he not. The whole week it seems like he’s done nothing but try to get the images of him kneeling on the filthy floor out of his head.

“Stiles?” he asks, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Are you okay?”

The sub gets up from the ground, dusting the dirt off his jeans and wiping the palms of his hands on his thighs nervously. “Yeah. Yes, Sir. I was just about to… you know…” he flails his hands wildly, gesturing to the building behind him.

“Hm,” Derek says thoughtfully and takes in the state of the boy, his too-wide eyes, the tension radiating from the set of his shoulders, the nervous fidgeting. “Yeah, this place freaks me out, too.”

“Right?” Stiles laughs nervously and sags a little.

Derek should go. He should say good bye and wish Stiles luck and just _leave_. Instead, he finds himself staring, and as the silence stretches on, Derek’s hyper aware how weird he’s being.

“Do you want to grab some sushi?” The question leaves his lips without his brain’s consent and he seriously wants to facepalm himself right now.

“Oh. Um, I have absolutely no money.”

“Don’t worry about that. My treat,” Derek waves his hand and at that, something weird flickers over Stiles’ face. It’s gone before Derek can figure out what is going on and after a short hesitation, Stiles nods solemnly. There’s weird determination on his face, as he finally pushes himself from the wall and steps towards Derek. He keeps his eyes trailed on the ground and Derek smells a tang of fear in his scent of overall nervousness and anxiety.

It’s too late to back up now, so he might as well go on with it. They get to the car and as Stiles closes the door behind him, stuffing his hands under his thighs, it occurs to Derek that he hasn’t even introduced himself. And really, did Stiles just get into car with a strange Dom? Even if it was a police cruiser.

“I’m Derek, by the way. Derek Hale.”

Finally, Stiles’ eyes briefly flicker up from his shoes and he gives him a shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”

 

The sushi place is pleasantly quiet, with only a few patrons scattered around. Derek leads the way to his favorite table by the far away wall, tucked away from sight. Unobtrusive music is playing in the background, magnifying the fancy feeling of this place.

Stiles sits down gingerly on the edge of the seat, taking the menu with a quiet thank you. Once the waiter is out of sight, he smiles self-deprecatingly. “I wish I had jeans with fewer holes in them but this is literally my only pair.”

“Designer jeans have holes in them,” Derek tries weakly, even as the implications of Stiles’ words sit heavily in his stomach.

“Yeah, sure, let’s go with that. They’re designer,” Stiles smiles and they way his eyes crinkle does something to Derek that he’s absolutely not ready to admit. What the hell is he doing?

Stiles skims forth and back through the menu, looking absolutely lost, and Derek takes pity on him. “Do you want me to pick?”

“Thank you,” he breathes out and hands him the menu. Derek orders two sets of his favorite sushi and adds a soup and chicken noodles. Stiles could probably use a hot meal.

“So,” he says once order is placed. “How are you…  How are you holding up?,” he settles for, even though a million other questions are on his tongue. _Do you have a place to stay? Do you need money? Are you safe?_

Stiles looks a little surprised by the question but then just shrugs. “I’m fine. I’m staying with a friend. Of course, he has a girlfriend now, which I didn’t know. Talk about a third wheel.” He picks up a coaster and starts to fidget with it. “He sent me to the center actually. Tired of my freak outs, I guess,” he shrugs again. He throws the coaster back and starts to play with the toothpicks, tearing the paper wrappers into tiny little pieces. “He’s totally overreacting, though. I’m fine. I mean, it’s been a stressful week, I think I’m entitled to a freak out or two, you know…”

Derek struggles for anything to say but is saved by the waiter reappearing. He looks disapprovingly at the paper all over the table, and places two plates of sushi in front of them. Stiles perks up and then just looks at the food a little lost.

“How embarrassing would it be to eat them by hand?” he asks, glancing nervously at Derek.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Derek takes the chopsticks, and before he can even think about what he’s doing, he puts them in Stiles’ hand, rearranging his fingers gently. Only then does he notice Stiles’ has gone very still, looking down at his hand with slightly wide eyes. Derek’s about to jerk away, apologize maybe, but when he sees the pleading, hopeful look on Stiles’ face, he can’t make himself move. Oh, fuck it, he’s going to hell for this, he thinks, as he leaves his hand where it is, squeezing Stiles reassuringly.

“Like this?” Stiles’ grab on the chopsticks is clumsy but he still manages to lift the food to his mouth.

“Yeah, good job,” he praises and Stiles beams. Already, his pupils are blown and he’s looking at Derek like he hung the moon.

“You can also dip it in the sauce,” Derek takes another sushi in his chopsticks, dips in the soy sauce and brings it carefully to Stiles’ lips. Stiles takes the morsel without hesitation, his eyes still locked with Derek’s.

The rest of the meal passes mostly in silence, with Derek occasionally feeding Stiles and murmuring praises. Stiles is completely still and pliant; gone is the nervous fidgeting and fussing. He’s leaning imperceptibly towards Derek, who fights hard to keep the scowl off his face, because, really, how touch and affection starved must Stiles be? It’s hardly surprising, Derek supposes, but it’s still unsettling. He drinks his attention, so ready to go down, so eager to please. Derek could probably do anything to him right now.

When they leave the restaurant and get back to the car, Stiles blinks slowly into the light, as if waking from some day dream. Immediately, the sour smell of anxiety and fear returns as he turns to Derek.

“What now?”

“Now I’m going to take you home.”

“What? Why?” Stiles sits up straight, panic in his voice.

“Because I have to get back to work and I’d rather not leave you like this in the middle of the street.”

“Oh,” Stiles sags and Derek can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking as he stares out of the window for the rest of the way. He still manages to navigate Derek, though, and soon they’re in front of a row apartment buildings.

Stiles gets out of the car without a word. He’s about to walk away but changes his mind at the last moment and turns back. Derek lowers the window and Stiles leans in.

“Thank you for the lunch,” Stiles smiles a little sadly.

“You’re welcome. Take care,” he says, even though it feels like it’s not enough, like there’s so much more to say. For the life of him, Derek can’t figure what it is, though, and after a short hesitation, Stiles just nods and finally walks away. Derek watches Stiles disappear in the rearview mirror as he drives away, and unidentifiable feeling pressing heavily against his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I feel like I need to stress out that Stiles has been in an abusive relationship and as a result, his whole idea of the D/s dynamics (and his self-worth) is distorted and really unhealthy. He feels like the only way to get affection/care is through pain. He's got a lot to learn.

“How was it?” Scott asks from his computer as Stiles quietly slips in. He’s home early today, watching some online lectures.

“Good,” Stiles mumbles. He wishes he had his own room to hide in. He’d give anything to have a bed to crawl under right now. As it is, he opts for the couch again, turning his back to Scott and burying his face into the pillows.

“See? I told you the center’s not that bad.”

“Hm,” Stiles agrees. He’s not going to tell Scott he’s never actually made inside the center. That’s none of his business. And anyway, Stiles _is_ feeling much better now, even if he’s still struggling to make sense of everything that’s happened today.

He keeps replaying their interaction and the lunch but nothing makes sense. When Derek invited him to sushi, Stiles was absolutely sure it’s not _just_ sushi. Nothing in this world is for free, Stiles has learned that a long time ago, and if a Dom just paid fifty fucking dollars for some rice and fish, then Stiles can bet there is something expected in return.

Maybe he fucked up somewhere without even realizing it. Maybe Derek changed his mind, seeing how pathetic Stiles really was, and that’s why he decided to just take him home afterwards.

All these thoughts make his head spin and he just wants to go to sleep and not think for a while but Scott is clearly in a chatty mood and Stiles gathers all his mental capacity to keep up with the conversation.

“… Allison always comes home late, did you know she’s studying to be a lawyer?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s working too hard, you know? There are not many subs in the law business. I keep telling her to take it easy, spread out the classes, but you know what she’s like.”

“Hm.”

“We only ever see each other in the evenings,” Scott complains and something about his pointed tone makes Stiles very uncomfortable. He turns over to look at him.

“Wednesdays were our date night. You know, go to the movies, have some _fun_.” He’s now openly staring at Stiles, who sits up, the pleasant warm sleepiness all gone.

“Oh, I’ll, uh… I’ll go for a walk?” he offers but Scott just waves his hand.

“Nah, it’s all good. Oh, and by the way, look, I found some new positions you can apply for.”

 

The pleasant buzzing feeling he got from his lunch with Derek doesn’t last, of course it doesn’t, but Stiles is still surprised to see how quick he degenerates. It doesn’t help that the atmosphere in the apartment seems to be getting tenser by the day. The hushed arguing behind the closed door of Scott’s bedroom is now a daily occurrence. Stiles tries to drown it down by turning up the volume on the TV but there’s just no escaping it.

Most of the days, Stiles feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. His nails are chewed down to nubs but he can’t seem to stop biting at them, despite Scott angrily snapping at him to stop. He knows he’s spiraling out of control. The urge to hurt himself is always there, simmering just beneath the surface, and he feels like he’s one misstep away from losing his shit altogether.

He knows he’s hit the rock bottom, though, when a few days later, while eating an expired yogurt that he found at the back of the fridge for lunch, he starts to think about Theo. Maybe he could call him. It is a terrible, terrible idea, Stiles knows. Plus, he’s probably in jail. _But what if not_? A treacherous voice whispers. Maybe his buddies bailed him out.

Stiles scoffs at himself. What makes him think Theo’d want to do anything with Stiles anyway. Still, if he’d suddenly appeared in front of Stiles and ordered him to kneel, Stiles knows he’d do it in a heartbeat. He’d do anything, he’d take so much pain for him, let him shred his back with a cane, only to see the flicker of pride in his eyes and hear how good’s taken it.

And the realization sends Stiles reeling. His hands start to shake and he pushes the yogurt away, panting desperately as his stomach starts to turn.

He doesn’t remember getting out of the apartment but his last shreds of self-preservation must have driven him on auto-pilot and before long, he finds himself in front of the police station, as if drawn here by some invisible force.

Oh, fuck it. It’s only a marginally better idea than running back to Theo but it’ll have to do. He checks the clock hanging on street corner. It’s almost six p.m. What if Derek’s already left? What if it’s his day off today? What if he’s working a night shift?

Stiles groans in frustration and plops down on one of the benches that gives him clear view of the station’s main entrance. He’ll wait. He’s good at waiting.

Half an hour in, a cold rain starts to drizzle and Stiles pulls his jacket closer. Soon he’s soaked through and his teeth start to chatter uncontrollably. He resolves to endure though, trying to occupy his mind by making up different scenarios. And all of them end up with Derek holding him, murmuring praises. He craves that more than anything. He can be good for Derek.

Another hour goes by and Stiles can’t find the energy to even shake anymore. His fingers have long gone numb and he’s pretty sure he looks like something the cat’s dragged in. Every time the door opens, Stiles prays _please be Derek, please be Derek,_ only to deflate when it’s another stranger.

Finally, he sees him and all the panic and fear return anew. He looks pissed, a deep scowl on his face, his eyebrows drawn down. A bad day at work, probably. Good, Stiles thinks hysterically, at least he’ll be more inclined to having someone to take out his anger on.

Derek spots him immediately and he stops in his tracks. Stiles jumps up and crosses the street hurriedly.

“Stiles? What happened? Are you alright?”

“You need to help me,” he blurts out and winces, half expecting a slap for telling a dom what to do. Derek doesn’t move though, only stares at him with an unreadable expression and the scowl on his face.

“I mean… please, I’m not… I need…”

“Oh, Stiles.” Finally, Derek unfreezes and he heaves an unhappy sight. He takes Stiles’ icy cold hands in his, beautifully warm, and there is a moment of hesitation in which Stiles doesn’t dare to breathe. The war of different emotions is plain on Derek’s face and after what feels like eternity, Derek nods in defeat. “Alright. Okay. Come here.”

Stiles doesn’t remember much from their drive to Derek’s place. It’s alright though, he doesn’t have to think. He’s in Derek’s hands now and he’s ready to surrender himself completely. He’s still teetering on the edge of an ugly, nasty drop. Everything is a bit hazy and distorted, and there’s a pressure on his lungs that makes it hard to breathe.

It’s heavenly warm and dry inside Derek’s apartment and Stiles really doesn’t have the mental capacity to even look around. He just stands in the doorway and looks at Derek for instructions.

“Take off the clothes,” Derek says softly. “I’ll find you something dry to put on.”

Without a beat of hesitation, Stiles struggles out of his wet clothes that are sticking unpleasantly to his skin. He’s completely naked before Derek finishes searching through his closet and when he turns around, Stiles holds his breath and tries not to fidget. He knows he’s far from perfect but the light in the living room is soft and Stiles hopes it will hide his skinny ribs and the scars.

Derek’s eyes grow a little wide and he quickly averts his gaze. “I didn’t mean right now… Alright, okay, here, put these on,” he hands him a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They don’t really fit and Stiles has to hold the waistband of the pants to prevent them from sliding down his hips.

Derek seems to relax a little once Stiles is clothed and is now watching him with the same unreadable expression as before, clearly considering.

“Please, hurt me,” Stiles croaks out before he loses his courage.

Something dark passes over Derek’s face and his jaw twitches. “No.”

“But…”

“Absolutely not. You are in no state to…”

“Derek,” Stiles says pleadingly. How can he make him understand that he’d be good? That he’d do anything to make Derek proud and maybe take care of him afterwards?

“I said no!”

The whole world tilts and Stiles feels like he’s falling. His throat closes up and black spots starts to appear at the edge of his vision. Stupid. Of course Derek doesn’t want him. What the hell was he thinking?

He’s distantly aware of somebody calling his name but the buzzing in his ears makes it impossible to think. Then there are hands and he’s being lifted. Or maybe it’s just his head spinning? He can’t tell, everything’s muddled.

The soft material underneath him feels like heaven and he blinks, trying to keep up with what’s happening. Is he on the bed? Something heavy is thrown over him and there are fingers in his hair. The softly murmured words don’t really make any sense to Stiles but they still lull him to sleep.

 

“Stiles!” the low voice slowly pierces through the fog of Stiles’ sleep and he mutters, “Five more minutes.” He’s just too comfortable. There’s a heavy blanket over him that feels like it weighs a ton and it pins him down perfectly. It feels like being hugged and snuggled but without the oppressive feeling of being tied down.

“Stiles!” The voice doesn’t let up and finally, Stiles remembers. Derek. Oh shit. He dropped, didn’t he? He struggles to sit up but can’t really get his body to cooperate.

“I’m up, I’m up!”

“It’s okay, it’s just that it’s getting quite late.”

“Right, I’m sorry, I’m going.” This is embarrassing. He’s taking the poor guy’s bed. What time is it? He hopes he’ll be able to catch a bus back to Scott’s.

He tries to slide out of the bed but a strong hand stops him. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, your friend?”

“Oh?”

“The friend you’re staying with? Won’t he be worried if you don’t come back? I thought maybe you’d want to send him a text?”

“Oh, okay, that’s actually a good idea.”

Derek looks at Stiles expectantly and it takes him way too long to figure out that he’s expecting him to send the text.

“I, uh. I don’t have a phone.” Stiles admits. Theo’s taken his phone privileges early on. Who does he need to text anyway, he said.

“Right.” Derek hands him his phone and Stiles quickly types the text, glad that he still remembers Scott’s number, and gives it back.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asks with such a genuine concern in his voice that it tugs at something in Stiles’ chest, making his head spin all over again.

“Better,” he answers honestly, and Derek nods, satisfied.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Stay?” Stiles blurts out and then cringes at his own demandingness.

Derek hesitates and then lowers himself back on the bed. He leaves generous space between them but turns on his side to face towards Stiles, his eyes shining in the darkness of the bedroom.

“Good night, Stiles,” he whispers and tucks Stiles back under the blanket. Stiles is out before he can think of a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever heard of weighted blankets? They're awesome:)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Stiles' head is messed up from his previous relationship. Beware.

When Stiles wakes up he’s feeling more rested than he has in forever. The mattress beneath him is heavenly soft, like lying on a soft fluffy cloud, nothing like that lumpy, hard couch. The couch. He’s not lying on the couch. Where the hell is he?

He sits up in panic, blinking, desperately trying to make out his surroundings in the pre-dawn light. It only comes back to him when he notices Derek’s form on the other side of the huge bed. The dom’s still asleep, breathing deeply, his chest rising up and down, and Stiles struggles to match his breaths to stave off the impeding panic.

Once he’s sure he’s not going to trip over his legs, he quietly sneaks out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him, careful not to make a sound. Finally, he takes a moment to look around him a little better. The apartment looks tidy, if a bit bare, with only the essential furniture and practically no decorations whatsoever.

Stiles has no problem finding the bathroom and sighs in relief when he finds his clothes, dry and neatly folded on the washing machine. He changes quickly and tiptoes across the living room to the main door, shoes in his hand.

With his hand already on the door knob, he can’t make himself leave. As much as he tries to convince himself he needs to just get out of here and never show his face around the police station again, there is something holding him back, freezing him in place.

Derek didn’t have to take him in last night. He barely knows Stiles and yet he still took care of him when he was falling apart. And Stiles is a lot of things but ungrateful isn’t one of them. Derek deserves a proper thank you and Stiles sneaking out of here is just cowardice.

With a sigh he puts the shoes back on the floor and returns to the kitchen. For a moment he just stands there, eyeing the fridge in indecision but then he thinks, screw it, might as well make himself useful.

Stiles is happy to find that the fridge is well stocked and goes for the eggs and bacon immediately. There is some toast bread in the pantry as well and Stiles decides to add French toast to the breakfast spread.

Cooking comes back to him naturally and he quickly loses himself in the pleasant peacefulness of it. As he’s watching the bacon sizzle in the pan, he indulges himself in the fantasy of perfectly served deliciously smelling breakfast waiting on the table as Derek steps out of the bedroom, Stiles kneeling serenely by the chair. Derek would smile proudly and lean down to kiss the top of Stiles’ head…

“Good morning.”

Stiles startles at the voice so bad he almost drops the cooking spoon. He was so lost in his stupid daydreaming he didn’t even hear Derek enter. And he’s not done, the kitchen is a mess and it is nothing like the surprise he hoped for.

“Morning!” he finally turns around, wiping his hands on his jeans. Derek’s standing there in his sleep pants and t-shirt, his hair sticking in every possible direction, and yet still looking imposing and unfairly sexy.

He leisurely strides over to where Stiles is standing and Stiles is hyper aware of the closeness, of how their bodies are practically touching as Derek leans over him to look in the pans. Stiles can’t help but tense, suddenly afraid that he overstepped, and he looks up at Derek to gauge his reaction.

“Hm, that smells delicious.” Then his smile is gone and his face turns serious. “That’s not… Have you already eaten?”

“What, no! I swear, I wouldn’t…” Stiles assures him immediately, a little taken aback by the question. Sure, he might be on a little self-destructive streak but he’s not that stupid. He’d never steal food from a Dom, even though Derk’s not _his_ Dom per se. He still bears the scars to remember _that_ lesson.

“That’s hardly two portions,” Derek points out the obvious, clearly frustrated, and Stiles is more confused by the second. He managed to fuck up already and didn’t even know how. The story of his life, really.

“No,” he answers softly, keeping his eyes on his socks. Distantly, he notices his toe is poking through a hole and he hides it under his other foot self-consciously.

“Alright, we’re sharing.”

Stiles looks up alarmed. “But-”

“Not a question, Stiles.” Derek levels him with a look and goes set up the table.

“Yessir,” Stiles mumbles and hurries to finish up. He carries the two plates to the table, cringing at how small the portions are now that he split the food in two.

Derek digs in without hesitation and hums approvingly. “This is good. And for the record, if you’re ever making a meal for me again, I want you to make for yourself as well.”

“Okay, I will” Stiles agrees easily. Rules are good. Rules mean Stiles is less like to fuck up by assuming and he repeats it a couple of times in his head to make sure it remains in his memory. “And I’m sorry. About yesterday, too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Derek says in a tone that broods no argument.

“It’s just...” Stiles starts but then hesitates. Derek doesn’t want to hear about his problems. Why should he care? When he looks up, though, he sees Derek watching him with an open expression, clearly waiting for him to continue, and Stiles feels the damn break.

“I have no idea what to do. I feel like I’m days from being kicked out of Scott’s place and I haven’t had a single interview yet, I’ve sent like hundreds of applications, and I have no idea how to take care of myself because I’ve spent the last year….” He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. The truth is stuck in his throat, choking him.

At this moment, he almost misses his old life though. He didn’t have to think, just obey. Sure, he hurt a lot and got punished even more, and the gentle touches were so far and between, but he belonged. He knew his place. At Theo’s feet. Now he’s just… reeling.

“Take a breath,” Derek orders and only then does Stiles realize he’s been holding his breath. He gasps for air and Derek waits patiently until he’s finally able to get enough oxygen through his constricted throat.

They eat their breakfast in silence afterwards. Derek looks like he’s thinking about something and he keeps absentmindedly rubbing Stiles’ arm. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it and Stiles is kind of afraid to move, scared that Derek will jerk away if he notices.

“What kind of job are you looking for? Do you have any skills?” Derek asks finally as they’re cleaning up the dishes.

“Honestly, I’d go flip burgers in a heartbeat. I’m not picky.”

“Sure, but, ideally.”

“I dunno. Something with computers, probably. I wanted to take informatics as my major, but…” he trails off. But things happened. “I don’t have any experience or education, though.”

“You need to stop underselling yourself,” Derek admonishes but there’s no real heat behind it. “Look, I-,” he doesn’t finish as his phone starts to vibrate and he frowns at the screen. “I’ve got to go to work. But I’ll help you. I’ll help you figure something out. Come on, I’ll drop you off on my way.”

Twenty minutes later, they are standing in front of Scott’s apartment. As he’s about the get out of the car, Derek gently lays his hand on Stiles’ arm.

“Meet me at the station again? At six?”

“Yeah, I – Yes.”

“See you then,” Derek smiles and then Stiles is watching his car disappear again. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, feeling more reluctant than ever to go back to Scott’s. Not that he has any other options, though, he thinks bitterly as he rings the bell.

It takes a long time and Stiles worries that they’ve already left for classes. It’s too early, though. Stiles doesn’t have a key and the weather is shaping up to be rainy again. After long three minutes, the door finally opens a sliver and Scott’s dishevelled head peaks out.

“Hey, Stiles. You’re home early,” he grins apologetically but makes no move to open the door.

“Yeah, um,” Stiles feels his cheeks heat up. It’s not that hard to guess what’s going on. “I’ll come back later.”

“Thanks, bro!”

Stiles stares at the closed door accusingly for a little while but then just turns around and leaves. He has absolutely no right to be pissed. If not for Scott he’d be sleeping under the bridge, he reminds himself, as he struggles to feel grateful.

It does start raining a moment later and Stiles wishes he at least had a baseball cap. With absolutely no money, hiding in a café is out of the question and in the end he opts for the library. He’s still soaking wet by the time he gets there and he feels other people giving him weird looks as he causally strolls around the lobby, looking at the bulletins, trying not to look as desperate as he feels.

He comes back two hours later and of course, the apartment is empty. He rings for ten minutes, looks for a key hidden somewhere, but then just slumps dejectedly against the door. It’s only three hours later that Scott comes back, a little breathless, and lets him in.

“I’m _so_ sorry, dude. I totally forgot that you didn’t have the keys and then I couldn’t leave the lectures.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, too worn out to even be pissed. He’s feeling feverish, shaking from the chills, the still damp clothes sticking to his skin.

“I need to go back, see you in the evening!”

Stiles strips the clothes and puts them on the radiator. Hopefully, they’ll be dry before the evening. His head starts to pound and he buries himself under all the blankets he can find, still feeling too cold. There’s still time for a nap and he gives in to the fatigue and closes his eyes.

He wakes up a couple of times, hears someone talking, at one moment there’s a hand on his forehead, he thinks, but everything’s just too muddled and hazy. He’s burning up and freezing at the same time and when he tries to open his eyes, it’s just too much effort and soon the exhaustion pulls him back under.

“Stiles, sweetheart, come on, sit up a little.”

Stiles jerks awake, finally a little more coherent, and sees Allison sitting on the couch, gently trying to lift him up. She hands him a pill and holds a glass against his parched lips.

“What- what time is it?” Stiles croaks out.

“Almost nine,” she says softly and strokes his sweaty hair. “Go back to sleep, Stiles. You need to rest.”

“Oh, fuuuck,” Stiles sags against the pillow. Tears prickle his eyes and he just wants to bawl and wallow in his misery but the feverish sleep takes over as soon as he closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Stiles just can't catch a break, can he?


	7. Chapter 7

The day seems to drag on forever and Derek can’t help himself but check the clock every ten minutes.

“Got somewhere to be?” Boyd teases when he notices Derek glaring at his phone for the tenth time. It’s a joke, obviously, because everybody knows just how pathetic Derek’s social life is.

“Yeah, I got a date, actually,” he snaps just to shut him up and then regrets it right away. Boyd’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and Derek knows immediately he will be subject of their lunch gossips. It’s not even a date. Why the hell did he say that?

He doesn’t really do dating. Not since Kate. Sure, he goes to a club once a month and finds whoever lets him tie them up and fuck them but that’s something he does mostly out of necessity to let out some steam. That’s not something he’s particularly proud of. He hates the awkward mornings, as they hurriedly get dressed, the sight of relief when the door finally closes and Derek is finally alone again.

Today, though, waking up to the smell of bacon, and more importantly, the sweet, sweet scent of Stiles… What is it about the sub that just wants to make him _his_. Everytime he sees him he gets the urge to swoop him in his arms and just take care of him and never ever let anything bad happen to him again.

Derek tries to bring his attention back to the report he’s writing but the words just swim in front of him. He sighs and brings up Laura’s number and presses call. She picks up after the first ring.

“Derek, are you alright?”

“Yeah, sure, why?” he asks, confused.

“You never call unless there’s an emergency. And like, the end-of-the-world kind of emergency.”

“Can’t I just call my favorite sister without a reason?” he grumbles.

“Uh-huh. What do you need Der?”

She sees right through him. Of course she does, and Derek decides to drop the charade. “Is Adam still looking for a new tech support?” Laura has been seeing Adam for the past three years and even dragged Derek to a lunch, all three of them together. He’s a nice enough guy and runs his own company. Even though Derek wasn’t paying all that much attention, he’s pretty sure he complained a lot about the pain of recruiting new people.

“No, not really.”

“Come on, I’m sure he could always use more help.”

“Derek,” she sighs long-sufferingly.

“I’ll owe you. Big time.”

“I’ll ask. That’s all I promise.”

“Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and looks at the clock again. Only four more hours to go.

 

As much as it seems the day will never end, six pm does roll around eventually, and Derek slinks out of the office, not stopping to say bye to anyone. Stiles is not there when he practically runs out of the door but that’s fine. There’s still ten minutes left and he sits down on the same bench as Stiles the day before.

Ten past six, Derek starts to be a little nervous. Half past six, he paces restlessly up and down the street, looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Stiles. At seven, he gives up and admits to himself that Stiles’ not coming.

Probably for the best, though. Stiles is absolutely not his and he needs to back the fuck away. The kid needs professional help and not Derek taking advantage of him being down on his luck. He promised he’d help him and that’s all he’s going to do. He’ll help him find a job but he’ll keep his distance because that’s the responsible thing to do.

Anger and self-pity battle inside him the whole way from the station. Once home, he just wolves down a left-over pizza while standing, without even heating it up, and goes straight to bed, too ready for this day to end. The pillow still smells faintly of Stiles and he shamelessly buries his head in, falling asleep almost immediately.

 

He wakes up the next day feeling much more clear-headed and guilt and worry immediately ring alarms in his head. He’s seen Stiles all but three times and yet it doesn’t seem very likely that he’d just decided to stand Derek up.

He’s probably fine though, just forgot. Or something came up. He’s fine, Derek tries to tell himself, but the worry is still making his skin crawl.

Keeping his focus on work and his thoughts from wandering to Stiles proves to be quite a challenge and after lunch, he’s ready to admit defeat. He looks at the sent messages in his phone and to his relief, finds that the text to Stiles’ friend is still there.

There’s nothing wrong with just checking if he’s okay, right? After only a slight hesitation, he hits call and listens as the call is rejected after one ring. He tries two more time with the same result before giving up, now the worry sitting heavily in his stomach, refusing to go away.

Still, he proceeds with his day, pretending he doesn’t notice the way Boyd keeps glancing at him, or doesn’t hear them whisper about him while huddled around the coffee machine.

After work, he gets in his car and slams the door behind him. He just takes a moment to enjoy the heavenly silence, before fishing out his phone and going to this call history. This time, the call finally connects and Derek sits up straight immediately.

“Yo,” and angry voice says before he can get a word in. “I’m not buying whatever you’re selling. Stop calling me!”

Derek rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it deter him. “This is Derek Hale. Is Stiles there?”

“Oh. Hold on.” _Stiles, some Derek dude is asking for you_ , Derek hears the boy shout, followed by some commotion, a loud _thud_ as something hits the floor, probably a chair, Derek thinks, and then, finally, Stiles grabs the phone.

“Derek!” he sounds breathless and his voice is a little hoarse and nasal. “I’m so sorry. Please... I was sick and wanted to take a nap and I woke up like five hours later and I know I should have set up an alarm, or something…”

“Stiles, slow down. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, it’s just a cold but… I’m really sorry. I can do better. Please. If you’d just give me another chance.”

“Stiles, I’m not…” Derek trails off, completely at a loss for words for a moment. He feels all resolve crumble. Who is he kidding. He can’t do this. Hearing Stiles so utterly miserable pulls at his very core and makes his wolf whine in protest. Fuck being a reasonable adult. 

“Derek?” Stiles asks uncertainly and Derek realizes he’s been quiet for way too long.

“I’m not mad, Stiles. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.” Derek could slap himself. All this time, Stiles has been probably convinced that Derek hated him and didn’t want to have anything to do with him. “I can be there in ten minutes. I mean, if you want.”

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers.

Derek breaks about ten laws and gets to the familiar street in record time. Stiles is already waiting on the sidewalk and a shy smiles spreads on his face as soon as Derek’s car turns the corner. Still, he looks like shit. His red nose stands out against the sickly grey skin and the dark rings under his eyes look like bruises.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he gets in the car with Derek.

“Don’t…,” Derek starts, immediately noticing the way Stiles flinches. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Stiles nods and stuffs his hands under his thighs again, something Derek is starting to notice Stiles does to stop himself from fidgeting.

“I think I need to make a stop at the pharmacy. I don’t really keep a medicine cabinet at home.” He used to, as he always liked to be prepared for anything, but after Kate he swore to never take on another sub and _definitely_ not a human one. How the hell did he get into this again?

“I’m fine,” Stiles sniffles.

“Hm.” Not convinced, Derek places his hand on his forehead and Stiles leans into the touch immediately. He feels a little warmer and clammy, nothing too alarming, but he does look exhausted and ready to pass out. In the end, Derek decides to forego the pharmacy in favor of getting home as soon as possible.

“Are you hungry?” Derek asks when they get to his apartment. He’s run out of leftovers but there’s probably some frozen TV dinner forgotten at the back of his freezer. Stiles is hovering by his side so close they’re almost touching and Derek really doesn’t feel like leaving him alone to cook something right now.

“Um...,” Stiles looks at him uncertainly, clearly trying to guess the right answer. “No?” His heart skips a beat at the lie and Derek sighs.

“Alright, I’m gonna order us something.” He sits down on the couch and after a short hesitation, Stiles folds himself on the floor between Derek’s legs, leaning his back against the couch. It feels like the most natural thing for Derek to start running his fingers through Stiles’ hair immediately, while he orders the food on his phone with his free hand.

“Are you alright on the floor?” Derek asks as he puts on the TV. Some stupid sitcom from the nineties is on and the laugh track is grating Derek’s ears but Stiles seems engrossed in it already so he leaves it. “Or do you wanna come up and lie on the couch?”

Stiles tenses where he’s resting his head against Derek’s thigh and doesn’t answer. A momentary wave of helplessness and frustration washes over Derek. How is he supposed to do this? Stiles won’t decide for himself. Is he only doing what he thinks will please Derek? And what if Derek takes charge and fucks up? What if he does more damage than good? He wants to give Stiles what he needs but how is he supposed to know what it is when Stiles’d probably jump into fire if he thought it’d please Derek.

He knows what his mom would have said. _Trust your instincts_ , or something like that but at the moment, Derek feels like the least competent person to help Stiles.

In the end, he grabs one of the pillows and gives it to Stiles to sit on, hopefully preventing his butt from going completely numb from the hard floor. Stiles settles down, melting against his leg again and Derek resumes his stroking.

Small steps, he thinks. Maybe they’ll get there, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a slow writer, it's infuriating, I spend hours a day on this and still write like 500 words per day and I'm not even happy with what I wrote. I hope at least you'll enjoy it!:)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best! Thank you for all your kind and supportive comments, I feel very loved:) Here's a longer chapter as a thank you, enjoy!

The next few days are sort of awkward. Derek never tells him to leave, doesn’t offer to drop him off on his way to work, and so Stiles stays. He sleeps a lot, does some light cleaning up. Only on the surface, though, too afraid that Derek would think he’s snooping. Otherwise he spends the long hours when Derek’s at work staring out of the window, alternating between daydreaming about the Dom and imagining the worst possible scenarios that include Stiles fucking up and being kicked out on the street.

On the first day, Derek comes home from work with three full bags from the pharmacy and Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes fondly. Behind Derek’s back, of course.

“I think I’ve covered everything,” Derek says as he stocks the boxes behind the mirror in the bathroom. Stiles hovers in the doorway, watching Derek with a slight apprehension. There are painkillers, cough syrup, nose spray, as well as some gauze and an antiseptic lotion that set Stiles slightly on edge.

Navigating this whole situation is like walking through minefield, though. Without any clear rules or instructions, Stiles is having a hard time figuring out what is expected of him or what his position is, and it’s making his head spin. Derek is always nice to him, letting him sit on the floor by his feet, petting his hair, but then he suddenly becomes withdrawn and overly polite and distant and Stiles can’t for the love him figure out what he did wrong.

At night, he lets him sleep in his bed but spends the whole night carefully on his side of the bed, so far Stiles is sometimes afraid he’ll fall out of the bed.

Soon, Stiles gives up on trying to make sense of the whole situation and decides to just roll with it and wait Derek out. Something will give, eventually. The tension between them is palpable and one of them is going to explode, sooner or later. Stiles only hopes it will be Derek, this time.

 

In the meantime, Stiles makes sure to follow the one rule that Derek gave him. He is to eat when Derek’s eating. That’s an easy one. In the mornings they have a big fatty breakfast and he has mostly no problem waiting until dinner, which usually includes meat in one form or another. Derek always serves him ridiculously large portions anyway and so Stiles’ barely ever hungry.

The third evening, Derek takes a phone call to the bedroom and comes back with a satisfied smile on his face. “How do you feel about doing a job interview tomorrow?”

“Really? What… where?” Stiles asks, his heart already pounding.

“My sister’s partner has a company. He agreed you can come over tomorrow. They’re doing something with software and computers. I’m not really sure. He’ll explain it to you.”

For a moment, all Stiles feels is an all-consuming terror. He can’t do this. He’ll fuck up and make Derek look bad in front of his potential brother-in-law. But he cannot _not_ go when Derek clearly went out of his way to get Stiles this opportunity.

That’s what this is about anyway, isn’t it? Derek said he’ll help Stiles a job. And it took him all but three days to get him an interview where Stiles got nothing in two weeks. With a sinking feeling, Stiles realizes that Derek is pulling strings to make good on his promise and once Stiles has an income… well, back on the street it is, isn’t it?

The inevitability slowly settles in and a weird calm takes over the fear. It doesn’t matter. Of course it was too good to be true. Derek’s too good for someone like Stiles. What the hell was he thinking?

“Okay, yeah, thank you.” Stiles tries to summon a smile but it must look pretty pathetic because the crease of worry between Derek’s eyebrows doesn’t go away. For a moment he looks like he wants to say something but then just nods and types a quick text.

 

Derek drops him off for the interview before work with a promise to pick him in an hour, even though Stiles assures him he can walk or take a bus. There’s a smartly dressed man already waiting for him, who introduces himself as Adam. A barely visible sleek collar peeks from underneath his dress shirt and Stiles is suddenly insanely relieved to not have to deal with another Dom right now.

His relief is short-lived, however, when Adam takes him inside the building and waves over a stunning strawberry blonde woman. She’s dressed impeccably in a pencil skirt and blouse with fancy ruffles, and manages to look intimating despite being only a little over five foot. The air of authority around her leaves little room for doubt as to her orientation.

“Unfortunately I have to run but I’ll leave you in the competent hands of Lydia. She’s our HR, lawyer, business manager, what have you. It was nice meeting you, Stiles!” Adam shakes his hand and is gone.

“Hello Stiles,” she smiles warmly and offers her hand.

“Nice to meet you Ma’am.”

“Just Lydia is fine. We’re not big on formalities here. Come on, let me show you around. Even though there’s really not that much to show.”

They enter a large open office area and Stiles feels his jaw drop a little. It doesn’t really look like an office. Sure, there are several desks with computers by the walls but even the desks are colourful and modern looking. Stiles’ attention is immediately drawn to the large relax area in the middle though. A bright yellow couch takes up most of the space but there are several armchairs and even bean bags strewn about.

It is a large room and yet it still feels cosy. Like an oversized living room, complete with carpets and pictures on the wall and little trinkets and weird looking decorations. There are four more people, either working on a computer or milling around.

“This, basically, is the whole company. Do you know what we do?”

Shit. Stiles should have probably done a little research. “Um, not in detail, no,” he admits but Lydia doesn’t seem fazed by his lack knowledge at all.

“We develop software for different companies. Be it a bank or a food retailer or a farm, you name it. They tell us exactly what they need and we develop it, implement it and then provide support. Easy.”

By now, everyone has stopped working and is looking at Stiles with open interest. “Everyone, meet Stiles. Stiles this is Danny and Isaac, our developers, Jackson here is responsible for taking care of clients and finding new ones, and Liam is the accountant.

“Now you,” she points one perfectly manicured finger at him, “will provide technical support. When something doesn’t work or sometimes people just don’t know how to do something, they’ll call and you have to solve it over the phone. Or via remote access, but we can’t really afford to send a technician so you need to figure it out. Any questions?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so.” Stiles nods, a little dizzy from the onslaught of information.

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?” Lydia points to one of the free computers and gives Stiles a quick tour of their software. “We’re going to do something easy, don’t worry. Ring ring!”

“Oh, um,” Stiles hesitates if he should pretend to hold a phone but Lydia is sitting right next to him and it just seems stupid. “Hi, this is Stiles, how can I help you?”

“Hello, Miles,” she says and Stiles is taken aback by her suddenly annoyed and unfriendly tone. “I need to print out some reports and it’s not working. I have a deadline in one hour and you need to fix this!”

“Yes, Ma’am, if you can go to the Reports menu in the top navigation bar….”

“I know how to print reports, I’ve done it hundreds of times, do you think I’m stupid?”

“I, uh.” Stiles’ heart is pounding loud in his ears and his vision swims. He can’t think. All his thoughts are reduced to the fact that there’s an angry Dom yelling at him and he can’t remember what he’s done. He grabs the edge of the table, fighting hard against the urge to just slide to his knees.

Suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder and he flinches before he can catch himself.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia says, her face gentle and friendly again. “I guess I was a little too much in character, huh?”

Stiles hears Jackson snicker behind him and feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Did he really just completely freeze because Lydia raised her voice a little? He slumps in the chair, unable to lift his eyes from the floor.

“You know what, let’s do something else. Why don’t we grab a coffee and you can tell me a little about yourself.”

Stiles follows her to the kitchenette plastered in one of the corners and watches her make a cappuccino complete with fluffy foam that a barista could be proud of. They sit on the couch and she casually leans back and slips out of her high heels to curl her legs under her. This really feels more like two friends talking than an official interview, Stiles thinks, and it eases some of the weight on Stiles’ chest.

“So you went to the Beacon Hills high school?”

“Yeah. I graduated two years ago.”

“Oh, cool. Just two years after us, then. Most of us are still finishing our degrees in college. One of the perks of this job is that it’s really flexible. Adam’s a great boss, too. He’s always happy to let you do more or fewer hours, depending on your schedule and exams and what not…”

“I actually did two semesters in college,” Stiles dares to pipe up.

“Oh? Didn’t like it?”

“No, I did, I just… made some bad choices, I guess,” he shrugs. Like going on a date with Theo. Falling for him. Dropping out so that he could stay at home with him. _Why would you waste your time with college? You’re not gonna finish it, anyway_ , he said and Stiles believed him.

“Hm,” she hums thoughtfully, sipping at her coffee. Her bright red lipstick leaves a mark on the white cup and she wipes it with her thumb.

“But I do know my way around computers,” he says and the adrenaline from speaking out of turn makes his heart race. _Stop underselling yourself,_ he hears Derek in his head and he pushes himself to continue. “I’ve built several computers, for me and my friends, I know how to fix a lot of things. The rest I know how to google.”

She gives him a brilliant smile. “And ain’t that the most important skill nowadays?”

“Is it coffee break time?” Isaac plops down next to them and soon all of them are sprawled around the couch and armchairs, just chatting, reminiscing about their teachers and sharing funny stories.

When the hour’s up and he spots Derek’s car on the street through the window, he’s almost sad. Reality comes crushing hard down on him as he remembers that no, these are not really his friends and he’s absolutely not getting this job.

As Lydia sees him out, Stiles turns to her: “Thank you for seeing me. And I’m sorry. For wasting your time.”

“Don’t be,” Lydia says and stops him as he’s about to go out of the door, locking her eyes with him. “Stiles, it’s important that you know that we’re not biased against subs. We have subs in our team. Uncollared ones as well. But this is the reality of working with people. You’re gonna run into idiots, get called names and will have to deal with angry Doms who think you’re gonna bend over backwards for them just because you’re a sub.”

Stiles nods mutely and Lydia pulls out a business card from her iPhone case.  “Take care of yourself, Stiles. And when you’re in a better place, give me a call.”

 

“How was it?” Derek asks as soon as Stiles gets inside the car. With the adrenaline leaving his body, he feels utterly emotionally exhausted and lets his head fall against the headrest, closing his eyes.

“Okay I guess,” he says gravely.

“You didn’t like it?” Derek asks, worried.

“No, I did,” Stiles finally pries his eyes open. “I liked it a lot. I just don’t think I did very well. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Stiles,” Derek sighs and rubs his arm soothingly. “You did well. I’m very proud.”

Stiles just looks him in bewilderment, too confused to find his voice. He did absolutely nothing to deserve Derek’s praise. Not to mention he’s not even Derek’s sub, it’s not like there’s a reason for Derek to be proud of him. Tears of frustration threaten to well in his eyes and he stubbornly looks out of the window. He really can’t take any more of Derek’s worry right now.

“I’m tired,” he mumbles instead.

“Let’s get you home,” Derek agrees and starts the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use the characters however I want and they're not classmates in this fic. Just so that we're clear:)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uf, finally some fluff and comfort. It was long overdue I think

Stiles looks utterly miserable for the whole drive and Derek can’t help but feel guilty. All he wanted was to help Stiles and he just made everything worse. He really thought his family ties would get Stiles the job. A job would help Stiles boost his confidence, help him get back on his feet. Instead, it’s clearly made him feel like he failed and it’s all Derek’s fault.

As soon as they come back to the apartment, Stiles makes a beeline straight for bed.

“I’m gonna call the station that I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Derek says as he watches Stiles bury himself under the weighted blanket, only a mop of brown hair showing.

Immediately, a pair of terrified eyes peek out. “No, I’m fine, really. Just tired. I’ll take a nap and be okay again, I promise. Please, you don’t have to miss work because of me.”

“Hush,” Derek sits on the edge of the bed and cups Stiles’ head, stroking his thumb on his cheek gently. “It’s okay. I haven’t used up any of my vacation days in years. They’ll be glad to get rid of me for a while.”

And ain’t that the truth. Derek loves his job, maybe a little too much. That’s probably why he made the head of the DEA at such a young age. And he loves his team, which was why he was probably a little too hard on them. They are his responsibility, though, and Derek doesn’t take that lightly.

With Stiles out like a light, Derek paces the apartment uselessly. He has no idea what to do with himself. In the end he decides to at least cook some proper meal for Stiles when he wakes up.

Derek inspects the content of the fridge, frowning. It doesn’t really seem like that much has gone. Not that he’s all that sure about what was in there but it seems Stiles hasn’t eaten much while Derek’s been at work the past few days. He makes a mental note to bring that up.

Checking the clock, Derek decides there’s probably still time before Stiles wakes up and makes a quick grocery run, this time paying attention to what and how much he’s buying. He buys enough to last them at least a week and then puts together a simple chicken stir-fry with rice.

When Stiles wakes up, he does look slightly better, even though the smile he gives Derek as he comes out of the bedroom seems a little strained. His movements are a little sluggish, too. Derek tries to keep a light conversation but Stiles’ answers always come a beat too late, as if he’s struggling to pay attention.

They laze the rest of the day away. Derek puts on some TV, expecting Stiles to assume his favorite position on the floor but he just sits down on the other side of the couch, staring listlessly at the screen, even though Derek doubts he’s really seeing any of it.

 

The next morning he’s on his way to work when his phone rings. He pulls over to answer the unfamiliar number.

“Derek Hale.”

“Hello, this is Lydia Martin. I interviewed Stiles yesterday and I was told you were the one who recommended him for this position?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” Derek answers eagerly, hope bursting in his chest. Maybe he’ll have some good news for Stiles after all.

“Great. In that case, I have a question for you. Are you out of your mind?”

“What-,” Derek frowns in confusion but Lydia already continues, not waiting for his answer.

“No, I mean seriously. I would love to know why exactly did you think it was a good idea for someone like Stiles to work as a tech support, where people who are pissed already call about shit that’s broken.”

Derek cringes and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I guess I didn’t think it through,” he admits. It was naïve. Stiles needed a job and he knew Adam was looking for someone. It seemed like an easy enough solution at that time and Derek didn’t even think to consider if it was a job Stiles could handle.

“No, you really didn’t. You know, I’ve seen enough subs like him, kids from abusive homes and relationships. And if you’re serious about helping Stiles, you really need to step up your game because I swear to God, if you don’t, I’m gonna find him a Dom that will!”

“I,” Derek says dumbly. This girl is _fierce_. He feels like a little boy being told off by his mother for being difficult and it brings back memories. A smile tugs at his lips, even though he still feels like shit. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she huffs. “Oh, and Derek?”

“Yes?”

“Get your boy a decent computer, I have some homework for him.”

 

He spends the whole day thinking about the phone call and about what Lydia said. Even in his distracted state he notices the looks his colleagues give him but he ignores them.

All this time, Derek was afraid of being too pushy and was so concerned with giving Stiles space that he didn’t even realize that is probably the exact opposite of what Stiles needs. As lost as he is, he needs security and someone to make him feel safe and wanted and cared for and Derek feels like he is failing spectacularly.

By the time work is finally over, he is resolved to change that, though. He’s going to suck up his own insecurities and fears because Stiles deserves better.

 

It’s late in the evening when he finally gets home. Stiles is curled on the window pane, his head resting against the glass. He jumps down immediately, stretching his longs legs with a sigh and eyes the large bag in Derek’s hand curiously.

“You’ve been shopping?”

“Yeah. It’s for you, actually. Look, Stiles, I think we really need to talk.”

Stiles’ face falls and he freezes on the spot like a deer in headlights. The sour pang of misery and dejection hits Derek’s nose and he quickly raises his hands.

“No, nothing bad, I promise. Come here,” Derek leads Stiles by the wrist to the couch and gently pushes him down. He then sits next to him and takes a breath. Stiles is looking at him anxiously and Derek runs circles on Stiles’ palm with his thumb, grounding him.

“I think I owe you an apology…”

“Derek,-“

“Nuh-uh, I’m talking now, let me finish!” Stiles flinches and closes his mouths with a click. “What I wanted to say is that I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through some bad things and I guess it must have been pretty confusing and difficult on you, these past few days, not knowing where you stand and all. But I really want to help you because… well, I care about you. A lot. And…” Stiles was looking at him with wide eyes and Derek huffed in frustration. He sucked at this. He could talk for hours and never be able to convey what he felt.

So instead, he reaches inside the bag and pulls out the smallest box. He watches Stiles’ face closely as he unwraps the package and takes out a simple black collar. It was one of the best and most luxurious ones Derek could get his hands on, made of soft leather and padded with plush lining on the inside.

Stiles’ heart triples in speed at the sight of it. He holds it reverently in his hands, running his fingers over the soft material.

“Now you can talk,” Derek says when he can’t take silence anymore.

“I, uh….”

“Of course you can say no,” Derek hurries to add. “I won’t get mad. Or make you leave or anything.”

“No! I mean yes! Yes, please,” Stiles nods enthusiastically and hands the collar over to Derek who gently puts it on, making sure to leave enough give. The skin on Stiles’ neck looks healed completely but Derek still gets a flashback to the basement and clenches his teeth.

“Good? You can take it off at any time, if it feels uncomfortable, or….”

“No, it’s perfect,” Stiles says softly.

Derek leans back and the couch and pulls Stiles closer. He goes pliantly, snuggling against Derek’s chest, balling his fists in Derek’s shirt, holding for dear life. Derek runs his hand soothingly up and down Stiles’ back.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna take care you of now. Such a good boy.”

Soon, Stiles relaxes his grip and Derek feels him melt again him. His breaths deepen and his eyes are glazed over. Derek’s arm is getting numb from the weight but he absolutely doesn’t dare to move or even shift Stiles.

After a long time Stiles starts to squirm a little and he looks at Derek, his cheeks flushed and he grins sheepishly. “Sorry, I guess I drifted a little.”

“That’s absolutely nothing to be sorry about,” Derek pecks a little kiss on his forehead. “Are you back with me?”

Stiles moves to sit on the couch next to Derek but still presses himself close. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready to open your presents?”

“What? There’s more?”

Derek moves the bag closer with his leg so that Stiles doesn’t have to get up. Stiles peeks inside and freezes midmotion.

“What? Derek, no, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. I want you to have them.”

Stiles doesn’t argue anymore. Instead, an excited grin spreads on his face as he pulls out the laptop and smartphone. “Wow, that’s… I mean, this a _gaming_ laptop.”

“Lydia said a _decent_ computer. I don’t know what counts as decent. I asked for their most expensive one. We can switch it for something else if you don’t like it though.”

“No, I love it! Wait, Lydia?”

“Yeah, she said she has some homework for you,” Derek shrugs and can’t help but grin at the look on Stiles’ face.

“Oh my god, she did? What does that mean?” He jumps up from the couch, cradling the box to his chest. “Can I start setting it up now?”

“No, it’s late. We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

“But I’m not hungry…”

“Stiles,” Derek says resolutely. “We’re eating dinner now. You can set it up later.”

“Yes, Sir,” Stiles pouts a little but puts the laptop down without further protest. As late as it is, Derek decides to just heat up the leftovers from yesterday, which – Derek notes with a growing unease – are completely untouched. What exactly did Stiles eat for lunch? Tomorrow. He’ll bring it up tomorrow. Stiles is in too good a mood and Derek doesn’t have the heart to risk ruining it.

Derek barely registers what he’s eating anyway. He can’t tear his gaze from Stiles. The collar suits him. It makes his wolf purr contently. _Mine_. He sort of wants to lift Stiles on his lap and hand feed him, remembering their first lunch and the way Stiles looked at him.

Not tonight, though. Stiles is sitting on the edge of his seat, shoveling the food in record speed, his eyes wandering to the boxes every now and then. There’s place and time for everything and they have all the time they want now.

With his mouth still full, Stiles quickly rinses his plate and loads it into the dishwasher. “Can I –,” he points to the living room where the laptop is waiting for him and Derek waves him away.

“Go at it. You have two hours, though. Then it’s bedtime.”

Derek browses on his phone while Stiles work on his phone and laptop, murmuring excitedly the whole time. He doesn’t even protest when Derek announces the two hours are over and hurries to get ready to bed.

Once they’re both in bed, Stiles turns to Derek expectantly, biting his lips anxiously.

“Come here,” Derek lift his blanket invitingly and Stiles scrambles over. Derek spoons him from behind, feeling how rigidly still and tense Stiles is.

“Shhh, let’s go to sleep.”

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to relax in his arms and his sweet contented scent is the last thing Derek remembers before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for collars, what can I say...
> 
> I'm sorry if there are more typos than usual, I'm kinda exhausted. I knew I was gonna have a fun weekend the moment I got a call from my daughter's kindergarten on Friday that half the kids are puking and to pick her up. Sure enough, I joined her in puking on Saturday and on Sunday my husband fell victim to the virus too. And just when I thought we're in the clear, my youngest, a one year old, started puking today. The good thing is that there are no more members of my family to start puking... Well anyway. That's probably TMI. Sorry. Enjoy the update and stay healthy!


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles wakes up all warm and fuzzy. There’s a heavy arm draped around him and he revels in the feeling of being pinned down and secure. It’s perfect. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, where Derek wants him. His minds goes quiet, and after such a long time, the absence of his thrumming anxiety is almost deafening.

As much as he would love to spend the whole day just snuggling, his full bladder drives him out of the bed eventually. Derek grunts as Stiles carefully slips out of his hold but lets go when Stiles whispers, “gotta pee.”

In the bathroom, Stiles can’t stop admiring the collar in the mirror. He hated his old one. It was rough and chaffing. Theo used to tighten it as a punishment and Stiles felt as if it was choking him all the time.

This one, though, is the softest thing Stiles has ever felt and for the first time in forever, it feels like he can breathe properly.

Sure, in the back of his mind, he’s still terrified. Mostly of fucking up, of not being good enough. He doesn’t know Derek all that well, either, and he’s scared of not being able to give what Derek’s going to ask of him.

With a deep exhale, he stores all these fears deep down. It’s not his responsibility to worry anymore. He has Derek now to shoulder the control that has been weighing him down, suffocating him.

Feeling almost giddy and light on his feet, he gets his new phone where he’s been charging it in the kitchen and types a quick text.

_Hey Scott, it’s Stiles. I’ve got a new number._

_Stiles! R u ok?_

Stiles snaps a quick selfie, making sure the collar is clearly visible, and sends it as a reply.

_Whaaat. Congrats! Don’t be a stranger_

Stiles’ grin fades and instead, guilt settles in. He knows Scott sent him a shitload of messages in the first few months after he went with Theo, he caught a glance of the astronomical number of notifications on his confiscated phone once. He gave up, eventually, but still.

And his dad…

Stiles clamps down on the thought immediately. He’s not going there. He can’t.

Derek emerges from the bedroom not long after and wraps himself around Stiles from behind. He’s still beautifully warm from sleep and his stubble scratches a little as he rubs his face against Stiles’ neck.

They prepare breakfast together in companionable silence, with Stiles cutting the fruits and vegetables while Derek fries the eggs and bacon.

“So,” Stiles asks around a mouthful of toast. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Derek raises his eyebrows. “Well, we still have a lot to discuss before we move this any further.”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees even though he’s not sure what Derek wants to talk about. Rules, hopefully.

“But, uhm,” Derek shifts on his chair. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about first. I’m a little worried about your weight. About how much you eat, that is.”

“Oh,” Stiles freezes, his fork with crunchy fried bacon suspended halfway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate self-consciously. Is it too much? He’s still skinny, he knows he is, but he might have put on a pound or two since moving in with Derek. He never realized it might be a problem, though.

“I can work on that,” he offers.

“Yeah? I mean, I really don’t want to control what you’re eating. But I need to know that you’re taking care of yourself while I’m at work.”

“I’ll do better,” Stiles promises automatically, even as his head spins in confusion. What does that mean, exactly, take care of himself?

“Hm,” Derek eyes him warily. “You’re confused. Okay, let’s set up the first rule. The most important one. If you’re not sure what I want from you, ask. I promise to never get angry at you for asking. Though I might not be too happy if I find out you just assumed something because you didn’t want to ask me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Stiles nods. This one’s going to be tricky. Theo hated his _stupid questions_ and Stiles quickly learned to stop asking. For his own sake. Unlearning that will take some effort. He gives it a try anyway, even as his stomach clenches in fear. “What do mean take care of myself?”

“See, that was good,” Derek praises and Stiles can’t help but preen a little. “And what I mean is that you’re eating enough throughout the day.”

“Oh.” Stiles’ confusion is turning into frustration. “But you said,” he stops himself too late and bites his tongue hard. His stupid mouth, really.

“What exactly did I say?” Derek pins him down with an intense stare and Stiles knows there’s no getting out of this.

“You said to eat when you’re eating,” Stiles mutters, not lifting his eyes from the table.

Derek heaves a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, I said… I said if you’re cooking for me to make enough for yourself also. How… That does not mean that you can’t eat when I’m not here.”

“Oh,” Stiles says for the third time, feeling like an idiot. It makes sense now, how full the fridge was with all the food Derek was leaving there, presumably for lunch. “I’m sorry. I thought…”

“It’s okay. I’m glad we cleared this up. Come here,” he holds up a hand invitingly and Stiles all but jumps out of his chair to get to him. Derek pulls him down on his lap and holds him close against his chest.

“I really need you to talk to me, okay?” he murmurs against Stiles ear and it sends a ripple of goosebumps on his skin. Words get stuck in his throat and he just nods. “I have to go to work. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Text me if anything.”

Derek pecks another kiss on his forehead before he goes and then the apartment is empty again. Stiles quickly cleans up the dishes and starts up his computer. It turns on instantly and Stiles is still in awe. With his old laptop back home, he had enough time to make and drink a cup of coffee before it finally came on. He never dreamed of owning a laptop like _this._

It takes him twenty minutes to put together an email for Lydia because he gets stuck on whether he should start _Hi, Lydia_ or _Dear Lydia_ , chewing on his nail in indecision. In the end, he goes with the less formal variant and regrets it immediately after hitting send.

She replies almost immediately and Stiles’ heart picks up when he sees a new email in his inbox. _Hi Stiles_ , she writes, _thanks for getting back to me! We’re developing a new software and could really use a tester. For now, install the software and try it out, run a few tests. It shouldn’t take you more than a couple of hours. We can skype on Monday and talk more. Have a nice weekend!_

Stiles loses himself in work immediately, running every function he can think of, secretly hoping for a bug so that he has something to report to Lydia. Hours fly by and only when the room turns too dim to see the keyboard properly does he realize it’s almost evening. _Shit_. He abruptly remembers he hasn’t made himself lunch, and hurries to the kitchen.

He puts together a sloppy sandwich and forces it down standing over the kitchen counter. A sigh of relief escapes him when he washes down the last bite and Derek’s still not here. He really needs to not fuck this up on the first day and prove that he is not a complete waste of space.

His stomach kind of hurts afterward and he sprawls on the couch and watches youtube videos for the rest of the evening, even though it feels a bit of a waste to watch videos on a machine like this.

The click of the lock jolts Stiles from his slumber. He slams the laptop shut and quickly jumps up from the couch, almost tripping on his feet in the process. A picture of gracefulness, as always, Stiles rolls his eyes internally. He stands in the middle of the room uncertainly, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides, and watches Derek shrug off his jacket.

As much as he would love to dive in for a welcome-home hug, he waits. Nobody likes subs that are too needy. Stiles has gotten more affection in the past day than he has in months before and it still feels like it’s not enough, like he’ll never get enough.

Derek’s eyes grow a little dark when they inevitably land on Stiles’ collar. Crossing the distance between them in a few large strides, the grabs a handful of Stiles’ overgrown hair and tilts his head back to expose the column of his neck. It’s just on the verge of painful and Stiles feels his knees buckle a little when Derek buries his nose in the crook of his neck.

“I love the way you smell,” Derek whispers.

“Really? How do I smell?” Stiles asks a little self-consciously, trying to take sniff subtly. He showered this morning and didn’t even use any cologne or anything.

Derek chuckles a little and finally steps back. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re perfect. So, how was your day?”

Stiles sits at the kitchen table and babbles away about the software Lydia sent him and computers while Derek prepares steaks for them. He hums and nods and it looks like he’s actually paying attention and doesn’t even get annoyed when Stiles side-tracks for good ten minutes into some stupid story that randomly springs to his mind.

“Tomorrow’s weekend,” Derek notes when they’re both sitting down with steaming plates in front of them. “That means no work. We’ll have time to talk more. I want you to think about what you want to discuss and about any questions you have for me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles nods.

“Thank you. So,” Derek leans back, watching Stiles intently. “Have you been good today and eaten some lunch?”

“I, uh, made myself a sandwich…” Stiles offers uncertainly. It’s the truth, even though it hardly qualified as a lunch.

“It’s a start,” Derek says encouragingly. “Next time, I’d prefer if you had a proper, warm meal. Still, I think you do deserve a little reward for your effort.” He reaches into his pocket and slides a little card towards Stiles on the table.

Stiles immediately recognizes a Steam gift card and his head spins a little when he sees the $100 marked in its corner.

“Derek, I can’t…”

Derek just shakes his head. “I’m going to spoil you rotten, you’d better get used to it. You deserve to have nice things.”

“Thank you.” Stiles says for loss of anything else to say. A turmoil of emotions rages inside him as he picks up the card. He’s excited and grateful, already looking forward to checking the newest games, but also anxious. What is Derek going to want from him to shower with him so many gifts and how can Stiles even hope to repay him? He’s not worth all that and Derek will see that soon.

All the battling thoughts fade into background, though, when Derek, probably sensing the change of mood, takes his hand and tugs him out of his chair and onto his lap, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ middle from behind.

“You’re doing great, Stiles. I know you’re having a hard time believing that but I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” hurries to assure him, twisting around to look at him.

“Shh, I know. Let’s finish the dinner.”

They eat the rest of the meal like that, with Stiles on Derek’s lap and Derek cutting the meat and alternating between feeding himself and Stiles. They don’t talk, Stiles doesn’t think he could string together a coherent thought if he wanted to. He just rests his head against Derek’s shoulder and sinks deeper into the quiet serenity.

They go directly to bed afterwards, even though it’s still quite early. “I’m gonna read for a bit. Do you want to look through my books? Don’t expect any high-brow literature, though.”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

Stiles studies the cracks on the ceiling and lets his mind wander. Slowly, he moves closer to Derek and intertwines his legs with Derek’s, shooting him an inquiring look, silently asking for permission. Derek gives him a small smile and goes back to his book so Stiles counts that as a yes.

The warmth of Derek skin grounds him and he melts into the bed, closing his eyes. He wonders about so many things, the questions rattling in his head. Like why exactly hasn’t Derek fuck him yet or what does he plan to discuss tomorrow?

It’s easy to let go, though, comfy and warm as he is, and soon he feels himself falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, this chapter was fighting me so hard. urgh. I'm happy to move on even though I'm not that satisfied with it. Whatever. I'm at a weird point with this fic, like I have different ideas about how it could go and can't really decide which one I like the best. Sometimes I miss having someone to discuss it with... Where would you like this to go? (but please don't be mad if I don't grant your wishes:)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone, I've set up a blog on tumblr, you can find me at: https://paxterhobber.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Tumblr is still super confusing for me and I'm trying to make sense of it, but I will be happy if you come say hi to me. I'll write about my writing and myself and I'll bring you some great recs soon!
> 
> Anyway, onward with our story!

“Okay,” Derek sighs, his face set in determination, as he sits down on the couch with a few sheets of papers in hand. He pats the spot next to him and Stiles goes, sitting gingerly at the edge of the seat.

“It’s okay, we’re just talking. No need to be nervous. There are no wrongs answers and I promise not to get mad. Do you understand?”

Stiles nods, not lifting his eyes from where he’s fidgeting with the button of plaid shirt.

Derek puts two fingers under his chin and gently nudges his face up. “Out loud, Stiles,” he says softly.

“Yes, sir.”

A small smile tugs at Derek lips and he lets go. “Good boy. Do you want to start by tell me your limits?”

“Limits…” Stiles echoes feebly, the word turning sour in his mouth. Theo loved pushing him past his limits, said it was his job. Still, the memory feeling of _too much_ and _please no more_ is seared permanently in his brain and he’d hoped to never have to go there again with Derek.

When he doesn’t offer any answer, Derek hands him over a sheet of paper. “Alright, maybe this’ll help. It’s a list of kinks. I got it from my sister, it’s used by professional Doms at the center so it’s probably a bit too detailed but it’s just a guide.”

Stiles looks through the list. It’s a lot. A whole page, divided into several categories like bondage, pain, clothes, other. Some of the words Stiles doesn’t even know the meaning of but he gets the general idea.

After a cursory glance he returns it back. “I can do all of that.”

Derek’s face does a complicated thing. He schools his expression the very next second but Stiles’ stomach still clenches. _No wrong answers_ my ass. Stiles always manages to say the wrong thing. It’s a hidden talent of his, apparently.

“This is not about what you _can_ do but you _want_. What you’d enjoy, what you’d like to try…”

Stiles looks at him in confusion. That’s not how it works. It’s never about what _he_ wants. It never occurred to him to have any kind of say in what happens to him. Didn’t Derek tell him to trust him? He trusts him to make the decisions so why is he asking him these questions? Nothing makes sense and he just wants to have this talk over with.

“I, uh… I just want to be good,” he offers uncertainly because he feels he needs to say something otherwise Derek will explode.

A sad smiles spreads on Derek’s lips and he strokes Stiles’ cheek affectionately. “You are, Stiles. But,” he adds while Stiles secretly hopes they’re done. “We have to talk about this anyway. Let’s try something different. Look at the list and tell me if any of these is like _nope, I don’t want that_.”

Stiles reluctantly takes the paper again, this time reading each item and actually thinking about it. A whole new level of vulnerability opens in front of him. If he tells Derek his fears, will he use them to punish him or to get him to behave? _Trust,_ Stiles remembers and takes a leap of faith.

“This one,” he points to the word _breathplay_. A vivid memory of him choking, his lungs burning, his vision going dark around the edges, while he desperately claws at the hand around his neck, makes its way to Stiles’ mind and he shudders.

“That’s great, thank you,” Derek beams; he takes a black marker and crosses the item out. Then his face turns back serious as he looks at Stiles. “I promise to never ever make you do anything you don’t want. Now, keep them coming.”

Encouraged, Stiles points to knife play, humiliation, watersports and scat, with Derek crossing out each item and humming approvingly. “These are hard limits for me, too.”

There are few more items that make Stiles nervous and he sort of hopes they’re not Derek’s favorites but he doesn’t point them out of fear they are. He knows he’ll manage, if he needs to.

He heaves a sight of relief when they finish with the list but Derek shakes his head immediately. “Nuh-uh, we’re not done. You told me what you absolutely do not want, now let’s talk about what you want.”

Stiles groans in frustration, wishing he could hide his face under the pillow. He can’t do this. He has no idea what he likes, haven’t been able to figure it out in the year he’s been with Theo. Anytime something felt _good_ it quickly turned wrong by Theo calling him a bitch or a whore or hitting him too hard. Everything, the good and the bad, was jumbled together and Stiles didn’t know where to start untangling the mess. All he knew was that when it was over, everything was worth it if he got to make his Dom proud.

Derek takes pity on him and pulls him close, allowing Stiles to bury his face in his shirt. “We’ll keep it simple for now and figure out the rest as we go, okay?”

Stiles nods against Derek’s chest and the Dom starts absently stroking his hair. “Alright, bondage. Do you like to be tied down?”

That one is easy and Stiles gives another nod. He always loved how secure and owned it made him feel. Not handcuffs though; the cold hard metal digging into his wrist was the stuff of nightmares. Derek wouldn’t use handcuffs, though, would he? He doesn’t wear uniform to work, does he even own a pair?

“Good,” Derek continues. “What about pain?”

Stiles winces but forces himself to nod once more. What kind of a sub would he be if he couldn’t take a beating? And a little pain can be good. At least Stiles thinks so.

“Stiles…,” Derek warns, tugging gently at Stiles’ hair. “I need to you to be honest.”

“I am! I’m just… I can take a lot. But you’re asking about enjoying … and I’m just not sure, actually.”

“Okay. Fair enough. We’ll figure it out,” Derek scribbles something down and Stiles’ not sure if he should be excited or scared at the promise.

“What about sex?”

Stiles feels himself blush but this time, he absolutely doesn’t have to fake the enthusiastic nod. He’s spent a fair share of his long days daydreaming about the Dom, thinking about what it’ll be like when he finally takes him to bed.

He feels more than sees Derek smile at that. “Last thing then. What’s your safeword?”

“I don’t – I don’t know what that is.”

To his credit, Derek doesn’t even look all that surprised. “It’s a word that when you say it, everything stops. You can use it anytime, even after agreeing to something. I’ll never be mad at you for using it. On the contrary, I’ll be proud. I want you to come up with a word you want to use but for now we’ll stick with red for stop, yellow for pause and talk, green for go on.”

“The way I see it,” Derek continues, finally throwing the papers away, “is that you and me have a lot of exploring to do. We’ll take it slow, you will be setting the pace. But it will only work if you’re completely honest with me. Okay? Do you have any questions you want to ask?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Stiles shakes his head, even as he’s still feeling like a rug has been pulled out from underneath his feet, like his reeling, like his world has been turned upside down and inside out.

“Come here,” Derek takes his chin in and leans in for a kiss. After the initial shock, Stiles goes lax, opening his mouth a little to let Derek in. The whirlwind of thoughts in his head stops and for a moment there’s nothing but the softness of Derek’s lips. He’s breathless and a pleasant heat is pooling in his nether regions by the time Derek pulls away. Stiles looks at him in anticipation, ready for more, but Derek just smiles and gets up.

“Come on, get dressed. We’re going out.”

 

They end up sitting on a bench by the pond with an ice cream in their hands, just watching the ducks waddle around and people with dogs pass by. It feels surreal and Stiles lets out a little laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just- This feels like a date.”

“Well it is a date,” Derek frowns. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s nice.” Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been taken out on a date. Definitely not on the sitting-on-the-bench-eating-ice-cream type, anyway. He’s seen a lot of teenagers do it and envied them secretly but never thought he’d got to enjoy it himself, and with a Dom like Derek, nonetheless.

“So… while we’re at it, tell me more about yourself. That’s what people on dates do, right? Get to know each other?”

“There’s not that much to tell,” Derek scoffs and suddenly the melting ice cream in his hands is the most interesting thing ever.

“You have a sister, right?” Stiles prompts and Derek brightens up a little at the mention of her.

“Oh, yeah. Laura. She works as a service Dom at the center.”

“Two Doms in a family, your parents must be proud,” Stiles half-jokes but regrets it immediately when he sees the look at Derek’s face.

“Hard to say, they’re both dead. It’s just Laura and me. And besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a sub.”

Stiles doesn’t argue with him. That’s not something a Dom could ever understand and he doesn’t want to ruin their ‘date’. “I’m sorry about your parents,” he says instead.

“What about you? Do you have any family?”

“I- No, it’s just me,” Stiles lies. He’s not ready to talk about his dad. Derek gives him a weird look and Stiles feels like he sees right through him. And he probably does, Stiles has always been a terrible liar.

After a moment, Derek just nods, dropping the subject, for which Stiles is eternally grateful. After finishing their cones, they stroll aimlessly throughout the streets. Derek keeps a steadying hand on Stiles’ lower back and Stiles is ready to burst with pride, secretly looking around if people are watching, if they’re seeing who he belongs to. Of course, nobody around them pays them any mind, but right now, Stiles feels there is nothing that could make a dent in his good mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was basically split in two as there will be a POV switch. Sorry if the ending feels too abrupt....


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut ahead, heads up!

They walk aimlessly for hours, just talking. It’s Stiles who does most of the actual talking but Derek doesn’t mind. He loves his rants about movies and random trivia, when he forgets to worry and fret and Derek’s able to catch glimpses of the real Stiles.

Hopeful excitement is still pleasantly thrumming under his skin. He was nervous how their talk was going to go but he’s actually pretty proud of them. A relatively clear idea has started forming in Derek’s head about how to approach Stiles and what his needs may be.

Not even the fact that Stiles lied about his family dampens his good mood right now. He didn’t need to be a werewolf to catch the lie but he decided not to call him out on it. It’s not like Derek’s too eager to talk about his own family, so he can sympathize. Stiles probably has his own reasons and maybe he’ll open up more in time.

By the time they make it back to the apartment they’re both pleasantly worn out and they collapse on the couch in unison.

“I’m beat,” Stiles huffs and throws his legs over Derek’s lap.

“Yeah, me too. So… Pizza?”

“Yes! I want pepperoni. And extra cheese. Oh, and olives.”

Derek raises his eyebrows and shakes his head fondly. Who’d have thought that Stiles demanding pizza topings would make him so fucking happy. He quickly taps the order on his phone before Stiles can start backtracking and apologizing for being too pushy.

They eat in the living room, watching a movie. Stiles insists he needs to fix ‘Derek’s appalling lack of cultural education’ and puts on Star Wars that Derek admitted he’s never seen before. He settles himself on the floor again, between Derek’s leg with his back against the couch.

An hour into the film, Derek finds it extremely hard to concentrate on what’s going on on the screen. Stiles is restless too, fidgeting, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. His head is resting against Derek’s thigh, exposing his long pale neck, the black collar a beautiful contrast. Derek can’t help but run his fingers against the delicate skin and through his thick hair.

Stiles hums contently and presses even closer. A waft of arousal catches Derek’s nose and he clenches his fist. He promised himself he’d go slow. He has to. But right now he’d love nothing more than bend Stiles over the couch and just _take_ him. The moon is almost full, too, and Derek feels its pull, making all his desires stronger, fiercer.

 

He lets out a long breath and takes his hand back. Immediately, Stiles turns around with pleading eyes.

“Derek, please.” He looks so lost and insecure and there’s no way Derek could say no to him now.

“Okay, come here.” He pulls Stiles up from the ground and guides him to straddle his lap with his back against Derek’s chest. He mouths at Stiles’ neck from behind, enjoying the way it makes Stiles’ breath hitch.

“You remember the words?” Derek breathes out against Stiles’ skin. He takes both of Stiles’ wrists in his hand and pins them between them against Stiles’ lower back. The other, free, hand he uses to slither under Stiles’ t-shirt and roam against his chest, while he keeps nibbling on the sensitive skin just under Stiles ear.

“I, uh, yes,” Stiles manages. His eyes are blown wide and he’s clearly having trouble concentrating on Derek’s question.

“Tell me,” Derek orders quietly.

“Uh, red for stop, yellow for pause and green for go,” he gets out eventually. He’s already panting and the strong musky smell of his arousal is now filling Derek’s nostrils completely.

“Good boy.”

In slow, controlled motions, Derek helps Stiles lift up his weight to pull down his pants a little, while keeping his arms pinned behind his back the entire time. It takes a bit of maneuvering but Derek’s in no hurry. Finally, Stiles’ underwear comes off too, freeing his hard dick, begging for attention.

A whole-body shudder runs through Stiles when Derek gives his dicks one slow, languish stroke.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and wait for my permission, alright?”

Stiles makes a little sound in the back of his throat but nods. Derek’s own hard-on is pressing against his pants and he’s pretty sure Stiles can feel it too. The moan that Stiles lets out when Derek rubs his thumb against Stiles’ slit is absolutely beautiful and he could listen to those little strained gasps of breath for the whole evening. He knows he’s not going to tease Stiles for too long, though. That would be cruel. Maybe some other time.

He tightens his grasp and quickens his strokes. Stiles leans back against Derek and the breathy sounds he’s making take on a little desperate quality.

“Derek,” he pleads.

Derek whispers, “Come for me,” in his ear and Stiles comes with a groan.

Derek milks him dry completely. Only when he starts to turn soft in his hand does he let go and Stiles finally collapses, going boneless against Derek. It takes a long time for his breathing to slow down. Derek lets go of his arms and keeps rubbing his back, just waiting for Stiles come back up.

“Should I-?” Stiles finally lifts his head from Derek’ shoulder, gesturing uncertainly to Derek’s bulge.

“No, it’s okay,” Derek shakes his head. Tonight’s about Stiles and this is enough. Stiles nods reluctantly, not looking entirely too convinced.

“Up you go,” Derek urges Stiles gently and then leads him to the bathroom. He starts the bath, checking water temperature with his hand, while Stiles just hovers uncertainly in the middle of the room.

Once the water is nicely warm, he lets the tub fill and turns to Stiles. Slowly, he undresses him and Stiles lets him, obediently lifting his hands up to allow Derek to rid him of his t-shirt and then stepping out of his soiled pants.

“It’s just a bath,” Derek reassures him when Stiles, standing there stark naked, his hand twitching nervously by his sides, looks at Derek with apprehension. “Just let me take care of you.”

As he helps Stiles step into the bathtub, Derek makes a mental note to get some bubbles for the next time. Maybe some incense sticks. He hates those, the scent too strong and irritating to his sensitive nose, but he’d suck it up if it helped Stiles relax.

Stiles immerses himself into the water up to his chin and Derek settles next to the tub.

“I don’t think I’ve taken a bath since I was a kid,” he murmurs.

“Hm, just relax. You deserve it.”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows in confusion but doesn’t argue. Counting that as a win, Derek reaches for a washcloth and takes Stiles’ arm out of the water. They both settle into comfortable silence as Derek washes him in slow methodical movements, running the washcloth over every inch of Stiles’ body.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to truly relax. It’s beautiful, the way he goes pliant under Derek’s touch, the way he looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes. It’s a true submission and Derek’s wolf would purr if it could. He only wishes Stiles could see himself through Derek’s eyes and feel what he’s doing to Derek.

Stiles’ half asleep by the time the water starts to cool and Derek nudges him up. He wraps him in a huge towel and ignores the squeak of protest as he lifts him and up and carries him in bed.

“You’re gonna get the bed wet,” Stiles protests half-heartedly.

“It’s just water,” Derek shrugs. He helps him change to pajamas and then together they cuddle on the under the blanket. Stiles is out almost immediately and Derek quietly sneaks out of the bed and into the shower.

Letting the hot water flow over his head while he strokes himself to the mental image of Stiles coming all over his hand. It’s over embarrassingly fast but he doesn’t mind, too eager to return back to bed to Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is late and short but Easter was busy, I spent it with my family and didn't even open my laptop.
> 
> Also, I'm on tumblr (https://paxterhobber.tumblr.com/). I added some recs for my favorite slavery and Clint Barton fics, if you're looking for inspiration. If you've read any of my other work, you probably know the kind of stuff I like, and the chances are our taste is quite similar, so please feel free to recommend your favorite fic to me. Between kids, my job and writing, I have absolutely no time to search for fics to read and it's frustrating, so hit me up with some good angst, h/c fics! Thanks:)


	13. Chapter 13

“No. Oh no, please don’t do this to me,” Stiles mutters desperately while smashing the F5 button repeatedly but the screen in front of him doesn’t change. _Please check internet connection._ He hurries across the room to restart the router, hitting his shin against the coffee table in the process and cursing loudly.

This day seriously sucks. His stomach has been tied up in knots from the moment he woke up and it’s only gotten worse from there. Watching Derek leave was almost physically painful and he hates himself for being so clingy. After the weekend they had, though, it was hard to go back to the quiet apartment.

“Come ooon,” he stares at the flashing lights as if he could make the router start any faster. He checks the time for the tenth time.  11:07. He’s already seven minutes late for his skype with Lydia. He despises being late from his very core, he’s probably never been late in his adult life so why does the universe hate him so much?

Fucking finally, he thinks, when the internet comes back up and he clicks call.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles breathes out immediately as soon as Lydia pick up after the first ring. “I was ready early, I promise, but internet went down just as I wanted to hit call…”

“It’s okay. Stiles, it’s fine,” her voice is distorted through the speaker and the video is a little pixelated but she looks just as beautiful as Stiles remembers, her hair flowing in loose curls around her face. “Take a breath.”

Stiles nods and takes in a few shaky breaths. She must think he’s pathetic. And no wonder, when he can’t seem to hold it together in front of her for more than five minutes.

“Look, I won’t hold you long. I have a meeting to run to anyway. Just tell me how you found the software.”

“I, uh… I didn’t find any problems with it,” Stiles admits. He’s spent the whole Friday and Monday morning desperately searching for anything to report but found absolutely nothing. It just works. Either they develop perfect software or he’s a lousy tester. And what if Lydia thinks he barely even looked at it and said it’s fine? Not for the first time, Stiles wishes he could just go mop the floor somewhere. Not much to fuck up there.

“Perfect! We’re going to build on this version, add new features and functions. You’ll be communicating directly with Danny and Isaac now, they’ll send you some tools for automation testing and I guess some tutorial videos and what not. Also, can you please keep a timesheet? I need to know how much time you spent on the job.”

“Yes, sure.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to it, then. You’ll get an email from Danny or Isaac but I’ll see you around.”

The call disconnects and Stiles slumps. The uneasiness in his stomach doesn’t go away but only grows stronger and more insistent and Stiles gets up to pace, unable to stay still. The silence is now suffocating. He opens up the windows but barely any sound from the street carries all the way up.

Of course she wants to know how much time he’s spent working. She must think he’s slacking. But if he reports the actual number of hours, she’ll just think he’s completely incompetent and way too slow. What would a reasonable time one should spend on a software like this be anyway?

Stiles tries googling it but gives up when he finds nothing, huffing in frustration. Instead, he opens his inbox, but of course there are no new messages. He has no idea what he should be doing now. Maybe he could play the game he bought yesterday for a while. In the end, he can’t bring himself to start it up, feeling too guilty. He’s done nothing useful today, he doesn’t deserve it.

It was so much easier yesterday, with Derek. Playing a strategy game, he could just sprawl on the couch next to Derek, resting his feet against his side, the computer on his lap, keeping a running commentary of what he was doing as Derek pretended to read a book, more often than not looking at screen though, watching Stiles play. Stiles didn’t know he could feel this peaceful and only wished it could last.

It never does though. Stiles chews at his nails nervously in front of the computer, refreshing his inbox every two minutes. After an hour, when no new emails appear, he gives up. Turning the laptop so that he can keep an eye on it, he curls back in his favorite spot at the window.

He zones out, letting his mind wander. Suddenly he’s a kid again, lying on his stomach on the old scratchy, stained carpet in his room. His dad’s there too, sitting by his side, and there isn’t a single worry in the world. Stiles closes his eyes, chasing the memory, the feeling of being _home_ and _safe_ , trying to bring up his dad’s face, the wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles, his rough hands as patted his shoulder…

He startles at the sound of lock, bringing him back to reality. He must have spaced out for quite a while, as it’s already dark outside. His eyes immediately fly to the laptop and he deflates at the sight of his empty inbox.

Derek slowly enters the room, watching Stiles contemplatively.

“Are you okay?” he asks and holds his arms out invitingly. Stiles hurries from the window, pressing close, tilting his head as Derek nuzzles at his neck.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Were you sitting there the whole day?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

“No?” Stiles answers nervously. Should he have been doing something else? Maybe Derek assumed he’ll clean or cook, Stiles realizes with a sinking feeling.

“What about the game?”

“I didn’t play, I swear!”

Derek sighs and leads Stiles to the kitchen, gently pushing him down into a chair. He starts the stove, puts a skillet on and then starts pulling out ingredients from the fridge.

“I don’t want you to be bored, Stiles. I can get Netflix if you want. Or more books. You don’t have to stare out of the window the whole day.”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees carefully, hunching his shoulders. Now he’s made Derek upset, great. He has not idea how to fix it, though, so he just remains silent. Derek puts together a quick dinner, his mouth set in a line, looking lost in thought.

“How did the skype go?” Derek asks after they start eating.

 _Awful_ , Stiles wants to say _. She thinks I’m completely useless and now I won’t ever hear from them again_. “Okay, I guess,” he shrugs instead and Derek squints his eyes at him suspiciously.

“Oh yeah?”

Stiles doesn’t elaborate and the rest of the dinner passes in heavy silence. As Stiles is putting away the dishes, Derek asks, “By the way, did you eat lunch?”

Stiles freezes mid-motion. Oh fuck. He totally forgot. “Yes,” he lies instinctively, as panic takes over.

 “Stiles,” Derek groans, frustrated.

“I’m sorry, please, I just… it just slipped my mind … I was distracted and…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Derek draws him in and wraps him in his arms. “It’s okay.”

Stiles stays painfully stiff, unable to relax into the hug. It’s not okay. It was like the only thing that Derek asked him to do and he couldn’t even do that. He doesn’t deserve Derek’s kind words or his comforting touch.

“I should have reminded you. Tomorrow, I’ll send you a text, okay?”

Stiles shakes his head mutely. Now Derek’s blaming himself and Stiles can’t take it. It’s all Stiles’ fault. It always is because he’s such a fuck-up and Derek shouldn’t be wasting his time with him. _Useless._

The guilt is a heavy stone, pressing against his chest, making it hard to breathe. Derek pulls away from the awkward one-sided hug and sighs unhappily. He looks a little lost, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out.

In the end, Derek puts on another Star Wars movie. Stiles suspects it’s more for his benefit than that Derek’s actually enjoying it and that makes the guilt spike even more. He opts to sit on the other side of the couch. He doesn’t get to enjoy his favorite spot on the floor, not when he’s fucked up.

Derek doesn’t comment but he scoots closer and places his hand on Stiles’ thigh, a warm and heavy weight that does nothing to ease the tension that is steadily building under Stiles’ skin. Stiles doesn’t even pretend to watch the movie, his thoughts spiralling out of control, reverberating _bad bad bad_ in his head until he can’t take it anymore and jumps up from the couch.

“I, uh. I’m gonna turn in early. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Stiles,” Derek sighs pleadingly but when he doesn’t follow up with anything, Stiles turns around to leave. His hand is already on the doorknob to the bedroom when Derek barks, “Stop!”

Stiles freezes on the spot and slowly turns around, daring a glance at Derek. His face has turned hard and determined, and he’s now standing up with his arms, scowling.

“Come back here,” he orders. A strange mix of fear and relief flood his brain and Stiles makes his numb feet move. On some weird level, he’s glad Derek’s pissed. He _should_ be, Stiles absolutely deserves it, and it makes the world a little more right again.

“We’re not doing this,” Derek grits out once Stiles is within reach.

“What do you-?” Stiles asks uncertainly.

“This-,” he waves his hands in Stiles’ general direction. “Letting this fester and you… self-punishing yourself. That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Stiles averts his eyes, unable to hold Derek’s scrutinizing stare. “Alright. Fine. Pants off.”

With shaky hands, Stiles undoes his jeans and pushes them down to his ankles. His heart is already beating in his chest, in part with anticipation and in part with fear, but the knots in his stomach finally loosen up and he takes in a shuddering breath.

“Stiles,” Derek tilts his head up and Stiles sees his face has soften up again. “You can say red at any time. I won’t be mad, we’ll talk about it and find another way to deal with this.”

“Yes, sir.”

After a beat, just as Stiles starts to panic again that Derek’s changed his mind, he nods. “On the couch then.”

Derek sits down and manhandles Stiles to lay across his lap. He rests his hand on Stiles’ naked butt and Stiles can’t stop the flinch. With the other hand, he pins both his wrists against his back again.

“I think there’s a good lesson to be learned here,” Derek notes thoughtfully, running his against Stiles’ buttcheeks in what feels like a warning. “Tell me why I’m upset with you, Stiles.”

“Because I didn’t eat lunch,” Stiles answers immediately. This one is easy.

“No.” Derek smacks his ass with surprising strength and Stiles lets out a startled gasp.

“Because… Because I lied about it?” he tries again. This time, Derek rains a series of harsh hits and Stiles already feels his cheeks heat up.

He’s out of answers so he just lays there, panting.

“I’m upset because you’d rather stew in your own juices instead of talking to me and letting me help you,” Derek finally answers, punctuating his words with more smacks and Stiles struggles to concentrate on the words.

“I’m sorry!”

“I want you to repeat after me. I will talk to Derek when I’m feeling miserable instead of punishing myself!” Each word is another slap on his abused bottom and Stiles bites his lips to stop himself from squirming away.

“I will talk to Derek when I’m feeling miserable instead of punishing myself,” he repeats.

“It’s okay to make mistakes.”

“It’s okay to make mistakes.”

“I am good enough and worthy of love.”

“I… I am….” the words get stuck in his throat, refusing to come out. A single salty droplet lands on his lips and he shakes his head.

“Stiles…” Derek warns. Stiles’ ass is on fire and Derek rubs it soothingly. “Say it.”

“I am good enough and worthy of love,” he rasps out through his clenched teeth, hardly more than a whisper. The moment the words are out, Derek lets go of his wrists and guides him up and into his arm.

“Such a good boy, you did great. It’s okay, you’re forgiven,” Derek murmurs, stroking his sweaty hair, and holding him close against his chest. His throbbing ass is instantly forgotten and he feels so light, like he could float away at any moment, and heavy with exhaustion at the same time, his muscles turning into jelly.

When Stiles starts to grow heavy in Derek’s arms, his eyes drooping, Derek carries him to bed and helps him to his pyjamas.

“Thank you,” Stiles mumbles, curled up with Derek in a warm cocoon under the blanket.

“For spanking your ass?” Derek smiles.

“Well, yeah.” He doesn’t have the mental capacity right now to elaborate or try to make Derek see how _cared for_ it made him feel. It’s not important anyway. He’s pretty sure Derek gets it.

“Any time, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing like a therapeutic spanking, amirite?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut and angst ahead, the best combination!

The next day, Derek’s eating his lunch in the quiet of his car, listening to the radio, when his phone beeps and an involuntary smile stretches his lips upon seeing the selfie Stiles’ sent him. He’s sitting at the table, a full plate of pasta in front of him, and a goofy grin on his face. _Good boy,_ Derek types back and snaps a quick picture of his pathetic 7/11 sandwich. _Really? I’m packing you lunch tomorrow,_ Stiles replies immediately.

When he comes back from work and finds Stiles sitting at the computer instead of at the window, he lets out a little breath of relief.

For the rest of the evening, Stiles practically vibrates with excitement talking the _awesome_ testing tool he got to use and Derek finds himself grinning along.

“I, uh, I even played the game for a while,” Stiles admits and there’s a hint of apprehension in his tone. The way he’s looking at Derek, as if waiting for his approval, maybe expecting a reprimand for slacking, it makes Derek wonder if Stiles still thinks he doesn’t _deserve_ to enjoy himself.

“Have you managed to unite India yet?” Derek asks and chuckles at the way Stiles’ head snaps up in surprise.

“You actually listened to my ramblings?”

“Of course I do, it’s actually fascinating.”

Stiles huffs but Derek still catches the bright smile before Stiles can hide it.

 

They take it easy for next few days even though there’s restless thrumming under Derek’s skin that grows stronger by the day, as the full moon draws closer. He can’t fight the urge to touch Stiles every chance he gets, to rub his scent on him. _Mine_ , the wolf growls, and it wants to take and claim Stiles in every way possible.

They fall into a sort of comfortable routine filled with work, shared meals and cuddling in the bed. What Derek loves the most, though, are the peaceful evenings when they’re just watching a movie, Stiles running his mouth constantly, commenting whatever is happening on the screen, huffing _as if_ s, or screaming at the main characters. Derek would probably find it annoying with anyone else but with Stiles… it’s such a stark contrast to his lonely life before him, to the ever present silence that couldn’t be filled no matter how loud the TV was playing.

Tonight though, Stiles is restless. He’s sitting in his favorite spot on the floor but he’s barely paying any attention to the movie, squirming and fidgeting. His scent is tainted with a hint of nerves and arousal and he keeps not so subtly glancing back at Derek.

“Do you want something, Stiles?” Derek gives in finally. He probably shouldn’t encourage this or he’ll form a Pavlovian reflex and won’t be ever able to watch TV again without getting hard.

“I want to suck your dick.”

Derek feels his eyebrows shoot all the way up and he chuckles. “Do you, now?”

“I mean, can I suck your dick? Please?” he grins sheepishly, looking at him through his long eyelashes, and Derek rolls his eyes fondly.

“Since you asked so nicely... Come here.”

Stiles swiftly turns around to kneel between Derek’s legs, his hands already grappling with Derek’s pants, pulling them down. His heart is hammering in his chest but when he looks up, there’s no fear in his eyes, just eager anticipation.

Derek takes one of Stiles’ hand and places it on his thigh. “If you need to stop, just tap – like this.”

 “Okay,” Stiles agrees, even though there is still a slight hesitation in his voice. Safewording seems to be such a strange concept to him and Derek resolves to remind him of it as much as possible.

“Go on, then.”

Slowly, Stiles wraps his lips around the head of Derek’s dick and Derek can’t help the groan that escapes him. The warm wetness of Stiles’ mouth is heavenly and he grabs the edge of the couch to keep himself in check.

Clearly encouraged by Derek’s reaction, Stiles starts to move his mouth up and down, swirling his tongue and licking along the length of Derek’s shaft. The slow, languish pace Stiles sets up soon isn’t enough and there’s something dark and hot coiling underneath Derek’s skin.

Before he can stop himself, he fists both hands in Stiles’ hair, pulling so hard Stiles’ eyes water. He starts to thrust, keeping his grip on Stiles, hitting the back of his throat every now and then. It doesn’t last long for Derek to come then, holding Stiles in place until he swallows every last drop.

The sight of Stiles as he finally pulls away, drools and come glistening on his chin, his hair dishevelled and his honey eyes blown wide and glazed over, another wave of arousal runs through Derek, together with a hint of guilt. He didn’t mean to get so rough with him. But it’s been so long and the full moon is just two days away. Still, the way he felt his precarious control slip for a moment terrifies him.

Pushing these thoughts away for now, he smiles down at Stiles. “Such a good boy. Come here.” He lifts him up on his lap, facing him this time, and guides him to rest his head against his shoulder. Snaking his hand underneath Stiles’ pants, he makes a quick work of Stiles erection and soon Stiles coming, gasping into Derek’s t-shirt, and then going boneless.

“You were perfect,” Derek murmurs in his ear, as he strokes his back and waits for him to catch his breath and Stiles just hums contentedly. Derek cups his face and he leans to the touch, closing his eyes. Even after all that time Stiles has lived here, he doesn’t seem any less touch starved. “Such a good boy,” Derek praises, loving the way it makes his breath hitch. “My good boy.”

 

“I’m gonna go away for a night this week,” Derek says as they’re lying in bed afterwards, both still slightly wet from the bath they took together, and slowly drifting to sleep. Just like that, the lazy, relaxed atmosphere is gone and Stiles sits up, alarmed.

“What, why?”

“It’s the full moon.”

Stiles’ face furrows in confusion. It takes him a while to process the information, his eyes growing wide, fear flicking on his face for just a moment, then quickly turning into determination. “I don’t mind.”

“No.”

“I can handle it, Derek, I-”

“I said no.”

“But- ”

“This is not up for discussion, Stiles,” Derek snaps, hating the way it makes Stiles flinch. “I’ll be gone for the night and that’s that.”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Stiles says dejectedly and turns his back to Derek. He falls asleep before he can think of anything else to say.

 

 

The tension between them doesn’t disappear in the morning. Stiles tiptoes around Derek in the kitchen, not lifting his eyes on the floor. They go through their morning routine in tense silence that seeps deep down in Derek’s bones.

“Stiles, I just-,” he breaks the stiffness finally, “I don’t want to hurt you, is all.”

“You won’t,” Stiles replies with so much conviction it breaks Derek’s heart a little.

He huffs in frustration and just shakes his head. “It’s just one night. It’s not a big deal.”

Stiles doesn’t argue, only nods while staring at his plate, moving his eggs around with his fork disdainfully.

“Look, tomorrow I’m gonna take a day off, we’ll spend the day together, run some errands, and in the evening I’ll leave. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees, clearly resigned.

“By the way, this came for you in the mail,” Derek hands him an envelope, happy to change the subject.

Stiles takes the letter gingerly in his finger. “What? I don’t…” He opens it up carefully and studies its content, his eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “It’s a check.”

“Congratulation on your first pay check,” Derek smiles.

“Oh,” Stiles’ face brightens up and then immediately his eyes grow wide. “That’s not.. that’s too much.”

“Hm,” Derek studies the amount. “They probably pay for the number of hours you report? You should probably ask Lydia if you think it’s not right.”

“Yeah. _My first paycheck_ ,” Stiles says reverently and holds the piece of paper close to his chest. “It is – like ever. I’ve never worked before, summer jobs or anything like that. My da- I mean, uh, I always wanted to focus on school and stuff,” Stiles stammers, his heart quickening in his chest. “Well, anyway. Here,” he holds out the check to Derek.

“What are you doing? It’s yours.”

“But – I still owe for everything, for the phone and computer, and-”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Derek says in a tone that broods no argument and slides the check back towards Stiles. After a beat of hesitation, Stiles carefully folds the paper in two and puts it in his back pocket.

 

 

As promised, Derek stays home the next day and they head to the mall in the afternoon. Ignoring Stiles’ protests, Derek drags him to men’s section.

“You need new clothes.”

“I guess,” Stiles admits unhappily, tugging his plaid shirt closer protectively. He doesn’t make a move towards the racks though, only looks at Derek expectantly.

“Um, what do you want me to get?”

“I don’t know, whatever you like,” Derek shrugs.

“Really?” Stiles asks, uncertain, but with unmistakable hope in his voice. Ten minutes later he brings back a couple of t-shirts, a baggy hoodie, two new plaid shirts and a pair of jeans. Timidly, he hands over the basket to Derek and takes a step back, rigid with tension as he waits for Derek’s approval.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Stiles sags a little and follows Derek to the cashdesk. Derek throws in stuff as they go, socks, pyjamas and underwear and by the time they leave, they carry two full bags.

Satisfied, Derek heads back to the car. When they pass the hair saloon, Stiles’ steps falter and he lingers behind, looking at the door thoughtfully.

“Do you want to get a haircut?”

“I don’t know. I used to wear it short but I kinda like it longer now,” a slight blush creeps to his cheeks and Derek is immediately hit with the memory of grabbing a fistful of Stiles’ hair while he was… Stiles clears his throat, bringing Derek back. “I guess I could use a trim, though?”

“Sure. Whatever you want, it’s your hair. I’m not gonna tell you what to do with it.”

Nodding solemnly, Stiles goes inside while Derek waits on one of the benches outside, just watching people pass by, trying not dwell too much on why Stiles seems to expect Derek to decide what he wears or how he cuts his hair.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to come back with his hair trimmed and styled neatly, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“You look great,” Derek compliments him and Stiles blushes yet again.

For dinner, Derek takes Stiles to his favorite steakhouse and then they take a walk by the river, just watching the seagulls bicker for a piece bread, enjoying the fresh breeze and the last warm touches of the sun. As the light fades and first stars start to flicker on the sky, Stiles seems to turn into himself and becomes uncharacteristically quiet, his mouth set unhappily.

The drive home passes in complete silence. It’s fine, though. It’s not like he could make Stiles see how strong the pull of the moon is or hard it’s been finding an anchor without his family – his pack – in the past few years.

Derek doesn’t look back as he leaves Stiles in the apartment, even though he feels his eyes follow him all the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a (non-exhaustive) list of my Sterek favorites - https://paxterhobber.tumblr.com/post/184523106362/stilesderek-fanfic-recommendations - you may like these fics if you like what I write:)
> 
> Btw, the game Stiles plays is Europa Universalis😁


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, more angst, here we go!

The moment the door closes behind Derek Stiles plops down on the couch with a frustrated sigh. Immediately the silence that fills the empty apartment feels maddening but Stiles doesn’t even bother turning on the TV.

He’s tired but too strung out to go to sleep or even try to relax. Stupid fool moon. Stiles hugs his knees at his spot at the window and plasters his face against the cool glass. Still he can’t see the moon, hidden behind the surrounding buildings probably. Or maybe it isn’t even out yet.

The whirlwind of emotions in his head is deafening, making his head spin. It’s like a shapeless mass, always changing and transforming, making it impossible for Stiles to put his finger on how he really feels.

He’s pissed at Derek for leaving him basically without a word, with his scowl and barked _because I said so_ , but he pushes the anger down as soon as it arises. It’s not his place. Derek’s his dom, he can do whatever he wants. And Stiles is a good sub, he won’t question him or argue. He will be good.

Secretly, he’s also relieved, though. He hasn’t met any other werewolves but he’s heard stories. Stories about how they turn in bloodthirsty, vicious creatures on the night of the full moon. _Derek’s not like that_ , a voice in his head whispers immediately and the pang of shame at his fear and relief makes him cringe.

 _Coward,_ he hisses at himself. Even if Derek wanted to rip him to piece, Stiles should just take it and be thankful for being useful to his dom. That’s what he’s good for, after all, isn’t it? And Derek leaving is just proof that he doesn’t think Stiles could take it. He’s weak and broken and Derek knows it.

Unable to stay still, he starts pacing the apartment, but it feels like the walls are way too close, like there’s not enough air to really fill his lungs. On the spur of the moment he grabs the keys and before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s on the street, gasping for breath, feeling the cool night air calm him down.

It’s so much better outside, with the open sky above him and hum of traffic and city life around him. Someone is shouting in the distance and a faint wail of the ambulance barely carries to his ears but it’s strangely soothing.

He starts to walk aimlessly through the mostly empty streets, lost in thought. More people start to appear, some of them tumbling drunkenly, as he gets closer to downtown, and he actually has to start paying attention to where’s going to avoid crashing into somebody.

He’s about to turn back when something catches his eyes. He freezes on the spot and his stomach does a weird flip. Through the lit window of one the cafés, he sees a familiar figure sitting at the table, directly next to the glass. Derek’s tall form and broad shoulders are hard to miss and Stiles slinks behind of the light pole, his heart beating.

After a moment, he dares to peek out but Derek clearly hasn’t noticed him. He’s sitting alone at a small table, frowning into the cup that he’s cradling in his hands. Stiles watches him for a while, biting his lip nervously.

He should go talk to him. Derek wouldn’t be mad, would he? Would he think he followed him? No, Stiles wouldn’t be able to sneak up on Derek even if he tried, he has to know that.

But then again, Derek clearly doesn’t want him. Why should he go bother him when he made it clear he doesn’t want to spend the full moon with him? Pissing out a werewolf on the full moon is a terrible, _terrible_ idea and he should just go home.

But Derek looks… sad. Tired. Lost, maybe. But definitely not ready to maul Stiles for showing up his face. With a final burst of courage, Stiles peels himself from his hiding spot and takes a step towards the door.

He stops short when he sees Derek snap his head up and smile at a dark-haired woman that approaches him. Stiles watches, his jaw clenched so hard it hurts, as Derek puts his drink down and stands up from the table to wrap her in a hug.

It’s not a short hug either, not the two old friends may exchange as a greeting. This one screams of shared intimacy and familiarity, and Derek lingers a beat too long, clearly breathing in the woman’s scent as she runs her hand up and down his back reassuringly.

Suddenly feeling incredibly stupid, Stiles stumbles back, hitting the wall behind him, and stays put in the shadows, unable to tear his eyes away as the two of them leave the building, get into a car and drive off.

It takes a long time for Stiles to finally get his numb legs to move. He doesn’t even care where his steps are taking him, as long as it’s away, as if a physical distance from the place could help him escape the dark hole gaping inside him.

 _Stupid_ , _stupid, stupid_ , his brain is chanting relentlessly and tears prickle his eyes, making it hard to see where’s going. What did he expect though? Derek to settle for someone like Stiles? Broken, useless Stiles?

He stops only when his legs give out from under him, sliding to the ground, panting. The darkness around him seems thicker now, and he blinks in surprise, realizing he’s somewhere in the outskirts, surrounded by nothing by dilapidating warehouses and with no idea how to actually get back home.

A ridiculous idea flashes through his mind. Maybe he doesn’t have to come home at all. The moment he thinks it, though, he rejects it. He has nowhere else to go, no money save for his meagre check that he left in the apartment. And, despite everything, he doesn’t want to go. With Derek, he feels home for the first time since he was a kid. And so what? Is it really so bad if Derek seeks some distraction on the side from time to time?

Feeling clarity returning to his head, he gets up and dusts his pants. Yes, he’s overreacting. He will go home and take whatever attention and affection Derek deems fit. He won’t be a bad, greedy sub. He can be good.

He makes it about two steps back in the direction he came from when he hears a noise behind him.

“Are you lost, little one?”

Stiles’ heart immediately kicks into overdrive and his fingers start to tingle with adrenaline. There’s a man twice Stiles’ size leaning against the wall, sizing him up with a glint in his eyes. Stiles looks around the deserted street, the vulnerability of his situation coming crushing down on him. The panic is making it hard to think straight and he opens and closes his mouth several times, before finding his voice.

“I, uh, no, actually, I’m meeting my Dom here, he should be here any minute,” Stiles tries, his voice trembling despite all his efforts.

“Liar,” the man drawls and takes a step towards Stiles, who instinctively scrambles back, eliciting a laugh from the larger man.

Stiles keeps backing up as the man draws nearer, desperately aware of the solid wall behind him. Maybe he should just turn around and bolt but he has a feeling he wouldn’t make it very far. Or maybe go for the eyes. Or the balls. Which was more effective? He watched some youtube videos on self-defense but he can’t remember –

“Take one more step closer and I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stiles whips around so fast his head swims. Derek is standing right there and even in the pale moonlight it is plain to see that he is absolutely livid. Still, Stiles wastes no time getting to him. He’ll take angry Derek over this creep any time.

There’s a short of stare-off but after only a beat of hesitation the man throws up his arms in mock-innocence.

“I was just joking, man,” he shakes his head and reluctantly stalk away. Derek keeps his eyes on him until he disappears far away behind the corner. Only then does he turn his furious glare to Stiles.

“Derek, I –”

“Home. Now.”

 

By the time the make it home, Derek doesn’t show signs of calming down any time soon and Stiles instinctively goes to his knees on the hard tiles once the door closes behind them. Derek huffs and practically drags him over to the living room to kneel on the plush carpet and Stiles is weirdly touched by the gesture.

Derek starts to pace the living room, with a furious set to his jaw and shoulders, and Stiles tries to stay still and quiet but he can’t slow down his thundering heart.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while, even though he knows he’s probably making it worse for himself but he just can’t take the tension anymore. “I won’t leave the apartment without your permission again."

This at least gets Derek to stop his pacing and finally look at him. “What? This is not about… Stiles, you are free to go out any time you want but why in the world would you go to that part of the town in the middle of the night. And when the moon is full, too! Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” He’s shouting now and Stiles feels the tears threatening to spill. He won’t let them though. Focusing all his mental energy on keeping the tears at bay, he forces in a shuddering breath through his constricted throat.

Theo hated when he cried, called it emotional manipulation. He would always get mad at Stiles for trying to make him feel sorry for him. He won’t do that. Derek has every right to be mad at Stiles. Derek has every right to do whatever he wants. Even if it’s seeing other women in some stupid cafés late at night.

The first tear rolls down his cheek and then there’s no stopping the flood. All at once, all anger seems to leave Derek’s body. “Oh, Stiles,” he sighs and sits down on the floor next to Stiles, tugging him close to his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” Stiles gets out between sobs that he miserably fails at suppressing, and wipes his eyes to the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Shh, it’s alright, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, it’s just that… I did a lot of thinking and realized some stuff… and when I came back and the apartment was empty, you have no idea how worried I was. What if I didn’t find you in time? What if…,” he doesn’t finish, just keeps rubbing his back, waiting for Stiles to calm down.

It takes a long time for the tears to stop coming but eventually, Stiles just sags against Derek, completely physically and emotionally drained. Right now he wants nothing but to go to bed, sleep this night away, and hopefully forget everything about it. He glances up at Derek, trying to gauge the mood he’s in. It is still full moon after all and Derek’s probably nowhere near through with Stiles tonight.

Derek catches his eyes immediately and gives him one of his little smiles. “Let’s go to bed,” he tugs him up.

Stiles only manages to sloppily brush his teeth and splash some water on his tear-stained face before he collapses into bed.

Derek wraps himself around Stiles from behind, holding him tighter than usual.

“Are we good?” Derek asks softly.

Stiles is having a hard time convincing his locked muscles to relax and to melt into the embrace as he normally would. He still manages a small nod and eventually, the fatigue wins over and drags him into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say, so just - I hope you're having a good day!


	16. Chapter 16

“Are you okay?” Derek asks for what feels like the hundredth time in the past two days and Stiles just gives him another of his strained smiles that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Derek sighs, struggling to hide his frustration. He has no idea where he went wrong here, but it seems like ever since that full moon, Stiles has put up some kind of invisible barrier. There’s a tension to his shoulders that never quite goes away, even when their snuggling in bed, even when they’re watching a movie and Stiles rests his head on Derek’s thigh and Derek runs his blunt nails against Stiles’ skull.

Stiles does everything the same as before, he goes through all the motions, and yet it feels as if he was acting, pretending to be the Stiles Derek only started to get to know, and not very convincingly at that. On multiple occasions, Derek caught Stiles just freeze mid-motion and stare blankly at the wall, a weird melancholy etched in his face. Sensing Derek’s gaze on him, though, he always quickly shook himself off and continued as if nothing has happened.

Derek’s questions don’t get him anywhere, either. Maybe he’s not asking the right question. Maybe, if he found the right combination of words… But he has no idea how to articulate the feeling of wrongness, the sudden distance between them…

And so he goes back in his mind, replaying the night in every detail, trying to remember every word exchanged between them. Derek should have told Stiles why he came back, he wanted to, imagined it in his head on his way back, but then he got so pissed, when he found Stiles wandering one his own in the shadiest part of town, his fear and worry as always morphing into a hot rage. Anger he knew, anger was easier to deal with it.

The truth is, though, that he couldn’t stay away from Stiles. His wolf couldn’t stay away. On past full moons, he always went to his sister, his only remaining family, the only one left from what used to be his anchor, and it was fine. He managed. She calmed him, her familiar scent and touch calmed him, but this time it was different. There was a restlessness, a pull that he was unable to control and it led him right back to the apartment, to Stiles.

Does that mean Stiles is pack now? Of course he is, Derek was just too stubborn to think about it properly. He wonders what Stiles would think about that, how much he even knows about werewolves and their dynamics.

A sudden thought turns his stomach into a block of ice. Stiles hadn’t know he was a werewolf before he told him about the full moon, had he? No of course he hadn’t. It all clicks together and he collapses into the chair, digging the heels of his palms to his eyes.

Stiles thinks he’s a monster. He’s afraid of him. The realization hurts, like a knife in his stomach, twisting and turning with every breath.

When he lifts his eyes, his sees Stiles is watching him from behind the table with a mix of fear and apprehension on his face.

“And you? Are you okay?” Stiles asks uncertainly.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m just gonna… get some air.”

He practically runs from the apartment, ignoring the look Stiles gives him. It’s late, the street lamps are bathing the street in glum yellow light. They haven’t even had dinner yet but Derek can’t find it in him to care right now. 

Setting a brisk pace, he leaves their apartment behind and heads for the reserve, breaking into run as soon as the city opens into a forest. He focuses on his breath and on the sound of his feet on the wet rotting leaves, desperately trying to keep the images of his past out of his head.

 _Monster_ , a voice whispers in his ear and it sounds too much like Kate. Gritting his teeth, he picks up the pace, jumping over roots and rocks as he sprints through the darkness, not even caring where he’s going.

It’s long past midnight by the time he makes it back, sweaty and dirty and with guilt pressing heavy against his chest. When he quietly slips in, he finds Stiles passed out on the couch, TV playing on mute, the food they’ve planned to have for dinner untouched, packed neatly in the fridge.

He hesitates for a while, watching Stiles’ chest rise and fall, his face peaceful and relaxed, and in the end he just throws a blanket over him and goes to the bedroom alone.

 

The next morning, he’s finishing his second cup of coffee, feeling exhausted and irritated, when his phone beeps. He sees Stiles glance up at him from where he’s been solemnly pushing his eggs around the plate but he quickly averts his eyes again.

_Are we still up for today?_

Is it Wednesday already? Derek almost forgot but he’s looking forward to his lunch with Laura. He could use an impartial shoulder to cry on.

_Sure. I’ll pick you up as always._

_Great. And bring Stiles :)_

Derek’s finger hovers over the buttons and he looks up at Stiles, who’s pretending not to pay any attention whatsoever.

For a moment, he doesn’t want to ask him. Wants to make up some flimsy excuse, _maybe some other day_ , or something like this, but when he sees the way Stiles looks at him, sees the hurt and insecurity on his face, he thinks better of it.

“Wanna grab lunch today with me and my sister?”

Stiles perks up and looks at Derek with wide eyes. “Um, yeah, sure… if you want me to, I mean.”

“Great, it’s a date, then,” Derek nods, relieved, and Stiles gives what feels like the first genuine smile in days.

 

They stop in front of the center and Stiles looks nervously out of the window.

 “I’ll just pick her up, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” Stiles’ nods, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Derek tries to reassure him but he only nods mechanically and continues to fidget with a loose thread on his shirt.

This time, Laura is already waiting at the reception and smiles warmly at Derek the moment she spots him.

“Der, you’re late,” she smacks an obligatory kiss on his cheek. “Where’s Stiles?” She looks behind Derek, disappointed.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s waiting in the car. And be nice, will you?”

She gives him a grin and pats his shoulder. “I’m always nice.”

When they make it back to the car, Stiles is waiting outside, leaning against the hood, watching Derek approach with huge eyes, looking paler than usual.

“Stiles! This is Laura, my sister. Laura, meet Stiles- ”

To Derek’s surprise, when he turns towards Stiles, the sub hides his face behind his hands, making a little distressed sound.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, worried.

“I’m such an idiot,” Stiles grits out, his voice muffled by his hands. “Oh my god, Derek, I’m so sorry.”

“Stiles!” Derek snaps, exchanging a confused look with Laura. “What the hell are talking about?”

Finally, Stiles lowers his hands and turns his shining eyes towards Derek, pleading. “I’m so sorry.”

“What for? Why are you sorry?”

“I saw you, the other night. I saw you with a woman and I just thought… I just assumed…”

“Oh my god, so that’s why you were acting so… weird?”

“I was?”

“Well, yeah. And I thought you were afraid of me because, you know, I’m a werewolf.”

“What? No!”

Laura lets out a huff of laughter. They both turn to her, startled, as they almost forgot she was there. “You two idiots are just perfect for each other, aren’t you.” Shaking her head with laughter, she pushes them towards the car. “You boys seriously need to learn to use your words. Now let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Derek doesn’t remember much from the lunch, still trying to wrap his mind around everything. It’s like his world has shifted, yet again in these past few days, making his head spin. Luckily, Laura hits it off with Stiles immediately and they don’t need much input from Derek.

Still, he catches Stiles giving him nervous glances throughout the meal and when they drop Laura off at the center, they both go silent, staring ahead of them in the parked car.

“Are you mad?” Stiles finally asks in a small voice.

“Well, yeah, I am a little mad! You can’t just assume stuff like this and bottle it all up. That’s not gonna end well for anybody.”

“I tend to do that, huh…,” Stiles laughs mirthlessly, his gaze fixed out of the window. “But,” he starts and stops himself immediately, shutting his mouth so fast Derek hears his teeth click.

“But what?”

“Nothing.”

Derek gives him an unimpressed look and just waits him out. It takes a long time for Stiles to finally draw in a determined breath and continue. “But didn’t you just do the same? Like, assume stuff about me and not tell me?”

Derek snorts through his nose and takes Stiles hand in his, pressing a little kiss on the back of his palm. “I guess I did. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. So we’re even?”

“Yeah. We’re even. But don’t do that again.”

“I’ll try,” Stiles smiles self-depreciatingly.

Feeling like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders, he finally starts the car and drives Stiles home.

“See you in the evening,” Stiles says softly, with what Derek is pretty sure is supposed to be a suggestive smile, and jogs up the stairs. His stomach flutters, and at that moment, Derek feels like nothing could bring him down.

 

It’s not that easy to hold onto his good mood, though, when two hours later he’s standing by the side of the road watching his team swarm around two still smoking totaled vehicles.

They’re not normally called to car crashes. That’s not their concern. It does, however become their concern when two large bags of meth are found in one of the car’s trunks.

 “Terrible, isn’t it?”

The Sheriff joins Derek by his side, watching the wrecks disdainfully. Great, Derek thinks, now he has to deal with small talk on top of everything.

“Yeah,” Derek grunts. It’s not that he doesn’t like the man, he barely even knows him. It’s not like they interact at work on daily basis. Derek’s specialized team works pretty independently and he ever spoke to the Sheriff a couple of times. He seems friendly enough but it’s just that he likes to do his job and leave the chatter to his younger, less socially awkward colleagues.

 “I hope the kid makes it,” the Sheriff sighs. The ambulance with the young man has already left, the sirens still wailing faintly in the background. It sucks. He was hit head-on by a junkie with a trunk full of meth. Life’s not fair.

“Hm,” Derek hums in agreement, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

“And to think my son’s the same age.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek asks distractedly, watching Boyd pack up the evidence, and gestures at him to hurry up. He really wants to out of the drizzling rain and to start working on the case. He only hopes he won’t be held up too late tonight, the playful grin on Stiles’ face still vivid in Derek’s memory.

“Yeah, Stiles would… I mean, he turned twenty this year.”

All thoughts leave his head and his heart skips. Derek whips his head around to look at the Sheriff with wide eyes.

“That’s, um. That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s a nickname, actually,” the Sheriff smiles sadly, sounding distant. “Well anyway, I gotta run. Good luck, Hale.”

“Likewise,” Derek mutters automatically, watching after the Sheriff as he leaves, his shoulder hunched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, I have no idea how the American police system work, and also, I didn't really plan to turn this into a story this long when I wrote the first chapter, so...
> 
> Well I hope you enjoy it anyway. I really hope you guys are enjoying this because, to be honest, I would have never continued this, I don't really think all that much about his little fic, it's not something I planned, it just sorta... happened. :) But I will bring it to conclusion. Just for you :-*


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory

After Derek drops him home, Stiles collapses on the couch with a groan, taking a moment to just process everything. He’s still a little giddy and the relief he feels is strong enough to even push out the guilt churning in his stomach. He really is an idiot, though. If he’d just used his brain for a moment, he should have guessed it was the sister Derek talked about. She even kind of looks like him.

He can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it, though, because for the first time in who knows how long, Stiles feels everything fall into place. Derek’s not seeing anyone on the side and he cares about Stiles and about what Stiles thinks of him. Stiles sort of knew, rationally, that Derek cared about him but today he felt it; saw it in the way Derek looked at him, in the relieved smile, in the way he wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulders…

Running his fingers across the soft leather of his collar, he feels himself grin like an idiot but doesn’t care. There’s still a voice in the back of him, whispering that he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Derek, but today it’s easy to ignore. There’s so much hope in his chest right now and he can’t help but think that maybe, _maybe,_ everything will turn out alright.

With a sight, Stiles finally peels himself from the couch and checks his emails.  There are no new messages but Stiles doesn’t let that bother him too much. Sometimes days pass between hearing from Danny or Isaac with some new project or task. Sure, they still send him links to different tutorial or websites teaching coding, as something to occupy himself with in the meantime. Stiles is grateful, he really is, if only because some of these online courses they give him access to he could have never afforded, but he’s too restless to focus right now.

His mind just can’t seem to stay away from Derek and so he closes his eyes and just lets his thoughts wander. He thinks about Derek on the full moon, all imposing and threatening, saving him from the creep. Now, in the safety of their apartment, the memory sends a wave of arousal through him as Stiles shamelessly imagines Derek scooping him in his arms and carrying him to safety.

Before Stiles can think twice about it, his hand automatically wanders down his pants and he cups his growing erection. Immediately, he jerks away as if he got burnt, fear thrumming through his whole body. _Not allowed_ , his mind screams at him and Stiles blinks in surprise, taking a moment too long to remember where he is.

Derek’s apartment. Right. He takes a couple of breaths but the fear doesn’t go away completely, making his heart hammer in his chest. Derek didn’t say anything about Stiles not being allowed to touch himself, he tries to convince himself. But maybe that’s just taken for granted, maybe it didn’t even occur to Derek to have to spell it out loud.

He should probably ask. If there’s one thing he’s learned from the last fiasco, it’s that he should just stop assuming. Anything ever. Just no assuming.

He’s still horny, though, and now frustrated on top of it, and there are still hours left before he can expect Derek back. He tries texting Scott but gets no reply and so he just browses the internet mindlessly, watching weird videos on youtube.

 When he finally hears the click of the lock, he almost trips over his feet in his hurry to welcome Derek. He dives right into his arms and holds him close, trying to project his horny thoughts. Derek can smell that, can’t he? Stiles absolutely doesn’t want to be too pushy but if Derek could fuck him into the mattress right now, he’d very much appreciate it.

When he pulls away though, his heart sinks at the look on Derek’s face, all thoughts of sexy time forgotten, replaced by instant dread.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Derek gives him a strained smile and runs his hands through his hair. “Just a long day at work.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles replies, unconvinced, and follows Derek into the living room, where he plops down on the couch and gives Stiles a weird look, as if he was trying to solve some kind of a puzzle. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know, found a trunk load of drugs, had a chat with the Sheriff,” he says faux-casually, but his eyes never leave Stiles’ face.

Stiles feels all blood drain from his face and he stumbles a few involuntary steps back. Oh, no. No, please. This cannot be happening right now. His ears are ringing and his vision swims but he struggles to get his breath under control. Maybe this is not what he thinks, maybe-

“He’s your father, isn’t he?”

And just like that, his legs buckle and he folds himself on his knees on the floor next to Derek, hiding his head in Derek’s thigh, just shaking his head mutely.

“It’s okay, Stiles, please, it’s alright,” Derek runs a soothing hand through his hair. “He really seemed to miss you.”

“No,” Stiles says immediately, ignoring the surge of fear from going against with his dom.

“But – If you could just talk to him, I’m sure –”

“No, I can’t, he hates me.”

“I’m pretty sure– ”

“Please, Derek. You said you wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want.” Stiles knows it’s a low blow but it does the trick and Derek backs away.

“Okay,” he says placatingly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

They silence that settles between them is an uneasy one. Stiles is still on edge, half-expecting Derek to change his mind and drag him to the station.

“For what it’s worth,” Derek says after a long time and Stiles flinches. “He didn’t look like he hated you.”

“In all due respect,” Stiles says carefully, “you don’t understand.”

“No. No, you’re right, I don’t.” Derek says and fuck, it’s not an order, or even a question, and yet Stiles feels the explicable need to just lay it all out on him, to not have to be the only one to bear his guilt. He doesn’t want to be alone in this anymore and Derek, with his steady and patient presence, is right _here_.

“I fucked up,” Stiles blurts and then the words come tumbling out. Stiles barely wastes time to take a breath, as if afraid that if he pauses, he won’t be able to pick up again. “It was just my dad and me, you know, and you have no idea how hard it was for him. I was not an easy kid and he had a lot of shit to deal with but he worked so hard to make ends meet and to save enough money so that I could go to college. He was so proud, the day I left for college. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him tear up like this,” Stiles smiles sadly, not looking up at Derek.

“He always said to be careful but that I’m a smart kid and that he trusts me to take care of myself. I guess I’m not as smart as he thought,” he snorts. “I met Theo in my first semester. He was so charming and I fell for him so hard. He was… I’ve never been with anyone before, I didn’t know it could feel so good, you know. He took me down so deep I felt like nothing else mattered. Just him,” he looks at Derek, pleading him to understand, knowing that he won’t. How could he. He’s strong, he’s a dom, he doesn’t know what it’s like to feel this weak and helpless and completely at mercy of one person.

Derek doesn’t say anything but nods encouragingly.

“Well, anyway,” Stiles continues reluctantly. He really doesn’t want to talk about what comes next, his throat closing up, but he forces the words out anyway. “I moved in with him shortly after and things got really bad soon. I was a mess, dropping constantly, I was out of it. But the angrier he was with me, the more I craved his approval. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I dropped out of college, after two semesters, wasting all this money my dad worked so hard to save. And then, he took my phone and made me… made me leave this voice mail for my dad, saying that I hate him and never want to see him again,” tears spring into his eyes at the memory. He’ll never forgive himself for this. It’s probably the only thing he really fought Theo on, but in the end, he never stood a chance. Theo had no trouble dropping Stiles down against his will and then it was easy to make Stiles do anything he wanted. Stiles was weak. Pathetic.

“I’m really sorry,” Derek says finally. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“Sure it was,” Stiles says hollowly. “I should have left. And I could have, at the beginning, it wasn’t like he chained me down.” Well, most of the time, anyway. Theo used to lock him in the basement for days at a time when he was in especially sour mood but otherwise he let him move freely around the house.

“No,” Derek shakes his head resolutely. “I will not let you say that. It’s not. It’s not and never was your fault.” Now Derek sounds a little desperate and Stiles hates that he made him upset.

“Okay,” he says just to put an end to this conversation. It doesn’t matter what Derek says. Stiles should have known better. And his dad is better off without him. What would he say if he saw Stiles likes this, a broken drop-out? “Promise you won’t tell him, though?”

“Alright. I promise,” Derek replies, sounding uneasy but resigned and somehow, Stiles trusts him. It takes a long time for him to relax enough to get his stiff body to move off the floor to help Derek with getting the dinner ready.

They work in silence, standing shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, Derek stirring the fry while Stiles struggles to keep his mind on the vegetables he’s chopping.

“I get it, though,” Derek says with a far-away expression and Stiles freezes mid motion, snapping back to present. “I mean, I don’t, obviously, but, uh… I know what it’s like feeling that it’s your fault,” he says softly and Stiles has to strain his ears to make out the words over the meat sizzling in the pan. “I was sixteen when I met Kate. I was a stupid kid, barely starting to discover myself and she was, well… She was something else. Beautiful, older, experienced. I was way over my head, I didn’t see… She was using me to get to my family. She was a psycho and burned our house down just because she hated werewolves. Laura and I are the only ones who survived.”

Finally he turns towards Stiles, looking at him with a strange intensity. “I felt like it was my fault. But it wasn’t.” Derek’s mouth is set in a hard line, his eyes cold. “It wasn’t and it took me a long time to understand. I hope you’ll get there too. However long it takes.”

“I’m so sorry, Derek,” Stiles whispers, his heart beating painfully in his chest with a mix of sorrow and rage at how cruel the world can be.

“Me, too. But it was a long time ago. She’s in prison and I made my peace. Most of the days, anyway,” he smiles bitterly and nudges Stiles. “Come on, let’s eat.”

They eat on the couch, pressed close together. Stiles is feeling untethered, reeling, and the solid warmth of Derek’s shoulder against his is the only thing keeping him from falling into a deep abyss of a drop lurking just behind the horizon. Judging from the way Derek keeps touching him every chance he gets, as if he wanted to make sure Stiles is really here, he’s not feeling any better.

With the dirty plates cleared and the dishwasher softly humming, they curl up together in bed. It takes both of them a long time to fall asleep. Stiles keeps staring into the darkness, his thoughts running wild, and when he finally does, his dreams are full of nightmarish images of burning houses and his father’s disappointed face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I've had a shitty week. My daughter's caught chickenpox and it sucks. And now I'm pretty sure my younger one will catch it as well and we're supposed to visit my grandma, my kid's great grandmother and I don't know if we'll be able to. Please cheer me up!:-D


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles is up by the time Derek wakes up. He can tell by the way his breathing quickens when Derek stirs and by the rapid beating of his heart. Still, he keeps his eyes shut and lays still, facing away from Derek, his back pressed against Derek’s chest. In small movements, he shifts even closer, casually pressing his ass against Derek’s morning wood. He probably thinks he’s subtle, too, but the scent of arousal is impossible to miss, Derek can practically taste it in the back of his mouth.

It was there yesterday, too, the delicious musky smell that goes straight to his dick, but Derek’s been too distracted to really notice and now he feels a little guilty. With everything that’s been going on, he feels like he’s been neglecting Stiles’ needs.

The heavy feeling from yesterday’s talk hasn’t quite gone away yet but Derek’s all too ready to lose himself in Stiles’ pleasure for a while and forget about the shit weighing him down.

“Good morning,” he mouths in Stiles’ ear, noticing with delight the goosebumps that immediately rise on his skin. Stiles gasps when Derek takes the lobe in his mouth and nips at it. His hips thrust uselessly against the empty space and the scent of arousal spikes even more, completely filling Derek’s nostrils.

Derek reaches over Stiles, finding his hard, leaking cock and giving it a few leisurely strokes. “No coming until I tell you to, okay?”

Stiles grunts something in frustration and Derek squeezes the base of Stiles’ dick hard. “What was that?”

“Yes! Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Derek smiles and slowly moves his other hand up towards Stiles’ neck to feel the pulse of his hammering heart. The moment his hand brushes against Stiles’ neck, though, he goes rigid and the rancid stench of fear rolls off of him. Immediately, Derek recoils, taking his hand away, as the memory of Stiles pointing his shaking finger to the word _breathplay_ in his list of kinks floods his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles mutters unhappily, clearly trying to get panic under control.

Derek feels his frustration with himself grow. It’s like navigating a landmine and Derek just keeps fucking stepping on a mine after mine.

“Hush. It’s okay. Turn over.”

Stiles obeys, rolling over awkwardly, until they’re lying on their sides, facing each other.

“I want you to look at me.”

Stiles does, locking his honey brown eyes with Derek’s. Derek takes his time, just roaming his hand over Stiles’ body soothingly, and eventually, Stiles starts to relax again, melting into the touch and his breathing deepens.

It only takes a few strokes to get him hard again. Repositioning himself, he gets even closer and takes both of their dicks in his hand, stroking them in unison. He works them in long, purposeful strokes, really only wanting to get them off.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs when he feels himself drawing closer and after a moment, Stiles’ breath stutters. The moany gasp he lets out as he comes tips Derek over the edge and then they’re both coming, splattering hot cum all over Derek’s hand.

They both sag and Derek wraps Stiles in his arms, slowly drowsing off again.

*

He’s late when he finally makes it to his office and he doesn’t miss the look Erica shoots him in the hallway, but he just scowls at her. Plopping at his desk, he feels exhausted already when he looks at the pile of folders on his desk, waiting for him to dig in.

First things first, though. He finally gets his still heavy body to move and starts the computer. After logging into the system, the brings up the file on the bust they did the night he met Stiles, his eyes scanning the pages quickly, looking for the right name.

There it is. Theo Raeken. He stares at Derek from his mug shot with an annoyed tilt to his mouth and an arrogant glint in his eyes and Derek balls his fist with rage. That fucking piece of shit. Taking a calming breath, he quickly checks the rest of his file. He lets out a little breath of relief when he sees he’s still held in custody but it’s short lived as he continues reading. Apparently, they haven’t been able to charge him with anything more than possession and Raeken has filed a bail application. With a sinking feeling, Derek realizes it might as well be approved and that scum will walk free.

The rest of the information does nothing to soothe Derek’s growing unease. Apparently, he has a completely clear criminal record, he’s an exemplary student that graduated with honors from the best high school that money can buy. Great, he has rich parents to bail his ass out, who will then cry their eyes out in front of the jury, claiming how their perfect little son has fell in with the wrong crowd and what a sweet boy he is. In the end, he’ll get some community service and that’ll be the end of it.

The anger and helplessness sit heavy in his stomach the entire day, growing and solidifying it, turning into a heavy ball that just won’t go away. It gets even worse, making him feel like a piece of shit, when, in the afternoon, he meets the Sheriff in the hallway and the man gives him a polite nod and a strained smile.

When he finally comes, he barely makes it until diner before when all his pent up worries come pouring out.

“You need to press charges against Raeken,” he blurts out over his cooling meal that he hasn’t touched yet. Stiles’ eyes grow wide in surprise and he inhales his drink, sputtering.

“What? That’s… I can’t.”

“Of course you can. You need to. He can’t get away with this.”

Stiles puts down his fork and hunches his shoulders. “Derek, I… I don’t have any evidence. He’ll just say it was all consensual, how can you prove him otherwise?”

“We’ll find something. We’ll think of something,” Derek replies with fierce determination.

“That’s crazy. Nobody’s ever going to believe me… And then my dad would find out,” he pales a little.

“Stiles!” Derek snaps and regrets it immediately when he sees the fear flash across Stiles’ face. It is just so frustrating. Ever since their talk he has half mind to just grab Stiles by the collar and drag him to the Sheriff’s office. Derek’s pretty sure they would work it out among them, but it’s not worth destroying the trust between them. Stiles understanding that his wishes are not ignored and that he has a say in their relationship will always be more important.

“Okay,” he concedes finally, putting his hands up placatingly. “But at least file for a restraining order.”

“What, why?” Stiles looks up alarmed.

“Because he asked to be let out on bail. And he’ll probably get it.”

“But… He doesn’t know where I live. Or my phone number for that matter. And anyway, he wouldn’t- Why would he…?” Suddenly, Stiles looks so small and vulnerable, looking at Derek from across the table with pleading eyes.

“It’s okay,” Derek takes Stiles’ hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. “I won’t let anything bad happen, I promise. Tomorrow we’ll fill in the application together.”

Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet and subdued for the rest of the evening and Derek lets him. He really hopes he’s thinking what Derek said over and, given the time to process, he’ll agree to pressing the charges. It’s never easy to prove that a sub’s been abused but it’s not impossible. And with the help and testimony of Stiles’ father and his friend, they may stand a chance.

With the turmoil of thoughts in his head, it takes Derek a long time to fall asleep. It feels as if he slept only ten minutes when he’s woken by a distressed sound coming from Stiles, and he sits up, blinking groggily.

The younger man is still asleep muttering something that Derek can’t make out, tossing, shaking his head desperately.

Unable to watch him like this, Derek gently shakes his shoulder. “Stiles?”

“I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry,” Stiles whines, still deep in his nightmare and Derek shakes him harder.

“Stiles! Come on, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

Finally, he gasps and snaps his eyes open. Derek lets out a little breath of relief, and is caught completely unawares when Stiles’ legs connect with Derek’s chest with a surprising strength. The kick sends Stiles toppling off the bed and he lands on his ass with a loud thud.

“Don’t touch me,” he cries and scrambles away from the bed in panic.

“Stiles, it’s me…” Before he can finish his sentence, though, Stiles finally finds his footing and bolts from the room. A beat later, the bathroom door bangs loudly, followed by a click of the lock.

All traces of sleep gone, Derek hurries after him. He hesitates in front of the bathroom, listening carefully to the frantic beating of Stiles’ heart and his shallow gasps of breath.

“Stiles, come out, please. You’re safe. It was just a dream. Nobody is going to hurt you,” Derek says loudly in a level voice.

When no answers comes and Stiles doesn’t show any sign of calming down, Derek sighs unhappily and uses his claw to pick up the ancient lock. It gives easily and Derek finds Stiles curled on the floor, pressed to the far corner of the small room.

Slowly, he sits on the floor next to his and extends his arms. When Stiles leans forward, Derek scoops him on his lap and holds him close. “Come on, Stiles, it’s okay, take a deep breath for me. That’s it. Hold it… And again.”

It feels like eternity before Stiles finally loosens up the death grip he has on Derek’s t-shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, once he’s finally able to catch his breath. “I didn’t mean to wake you and… oh my god, I kicked you, didn’t I?”

Derek smooths his sweaty hair from his forehead and pecks a little kiss on top of his head. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I… I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep right now. I’ll join you later.”

“Alright, let’s finish the Star Wars marathon then, shall we?”

 

 *

 

The next morning, Stiles looks as shitty as Derek feels. Red-rimmed eyes with huge bag underneath, he stares listlessly into his cup of coffee. Seeing him like this, it just adds to Derek’s resolve.

“I’m gonna take care of the papers today. Get the process started. I’ll come home early, get some rest.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods miserably.

“I mean it. I want you to take a nap. And eat something. And no, coffee doesn’t not count as breakfast.”

“Okay,” he says again but at least there’s a ghost of a smile on his face. He tilts his face up for a kiss and his dry lips leave the taste of bitter black coffee in Derek’s mouth.

“I’ll be home early,” he promises. It feels like a physical ache in his stomach to leave Stiles like this but there are things to be taken care of. And Derek knows exactly what to do now.

 

“Are you seriously taking a vacation right now?” Erica leans against his table just as he’s printing the last of the restriction application forms, all ready to be filed. Derek gives her a sideways glare but she doesn’t falter.

“We’re in the middle of a case here.”

“I’m aware,” Derek snaps. “That’s why I’m leaving Boyd in charge. And I’ll be gone for a week, tops. You’ll manage.”

“Alright,” she sighs overly dramatic. “Well, enjoy!”

She’s all the way down the hall when Derek hears her mutter, “Like two lovebirds, really,” and he rolls his eyes.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the boys could use some time off for themselves, huh?
> 
> On a personal note (feel free to skip if you don't give a shit, lol, but I really like talking to you), my kid is doing great, practically healthy again, but I've had other things to really worry about... My husband's grant proposal has been rejected and we will most probably have to move to a different country. I'm really sad, we've lived in Vienna for 6 years and love it here, I feel home here, our kids have friends here, kindergarten and a great school ... We still have a year or two but it's I feel gutted. At least writing this fic has been a great respite, so thanks for that and enjoy.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long. My younger caught chickenpox as well and she took it much worse than her sister, poor baby, and my husband was on a conference so I was home alone. Then my mom came over to help me and we had a fight and then I spent the rest of the week wishing I was alone:)

Stiles is standing in the doorway to their bedroom, watching Derek throw random clothes to a duffel bag, cringing at how crinkled and crumpled they are going to be.

“A vacation?” he repeats, unsure.

“Yeah, why not? I think it’ll do us good to just get out for a few days.”

“I, uh. I don’t have a passport.”

Derek closes the zip of the bag and finally turns around to face Stiles. “You don’t need a passport, we’ll be driving. It’s not that far. I know this place, we used to spend summers there as kids. It’s nice, nothing fancy but uh. You know, peace and quiet and all that,” he shrugs, suddenly looking self-conscious, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It sounds nice,” Stiles smiles honestly. And Derek’s right, Stiles feels like he’s slowly going stir-crazy. A change of scenery would definitely be welcome. The guilt is there, it always is. Derek will miss work because of him. What will Lydia say that’s taking time off? Not that they really need him but still. He pushes it to the back of his mind and grabs his own bag.

 

In less than an hour, they’re all packed and on the way. It was a tight fit, with the Camaro’s tiny cargo space and Derek’s two bulky bags. One was filled with clothes, Stiles knew, but he eyed the other bag suspiciously. Derek noticed his curious gaze and only smiled mysteriously, making Stiles’ stomach clench in anticipation, and Stiles decided not to ask.

The drive goes by quickly. Derek gives Stiles free reign of the radio and even suffers Stiles’ off-beat singing. They stop for a quick grocery run, just a ‘few things’, as Derek puts it, and leave the store with three huge paper bags overflowing with food. Stiles ends up with two bags cramped into his leg space, but he doesn’t complain.

The farther they get from the city, the more excited Stiles gets. Soon the grey concrete streets are replaced by nice houses with little gardens and trampolines and then by nothing by woods and trees as far as the eye can see.

Stiles feels like a little boy, his face plastered to the window, when they finally leave the asphalt road and travel slowly up the hill on a dirt road, the car bouncing up and down. Soon the trees give way to a clearing with overgrowing grass and neglected garden and a surprisingly nice looking cottage. Stiles sort of imagined a log cabin with a dry toilet when he saw where they were going but this one looks more like a proper house, with two storeys and a spatial porch complete with comfy chairs.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” Derek says, looking at the place anxiously. “I pay a company to clean and maintain it regularly, check the pipes and what not but it might be a little dusty. Laura wanted to just rent it out but it felt wrong, having strangers here.”

Derek lets him in and Stiles takes a curious look around. It takes him a while for his eyes to adjust to dim lighting as the window shutters are all closed but the homely atmosphere of the place hits him immediately. The furniture looks old and well used, with scratches and what looks like crayon marks here and there, but it was clearly selected with love and care. There are shelves with dust covered trinkets, flower pot holders, ornate vases, now empty or with artificial flowers, and bookcases with dog-eared paperbacks.

Stiles can clearly imagine the place once bustling with life and laughter and feels a pang of sorrow. When he looks at Derek, he seems frozen, a faraway expression on his face, but he shakes himself off immediately.

“The bedroom’s upstairs, feel free to look around. I have to turn on the water and electricity.”

Stiles opens up the windows to let in fresh air, watching the particles of dust float in the daylight, and then stacks the groceries into the huge fridge in the kitchen. When Derek comes back, he cooks a quick pasta while Stiles washes two dishes, all a little dusty, and sets the table outside in the garden.

They stay outside long into the night, just talking. Derek shares stories from their family vacations and what trouble they used to get into. Stiles talks about his dad, hesitantly at first, but then all the fond memories come pouring out and it’s such a _relief._ For so long, he pushed away any thought of his dad because he was afraid of the pain it brought. He still carefully avoids anything that happened once he went college, but being able to talk about his high-school years and having someone to listen, it lifts a strange weight from his shoulders he didn’t even realize was there.

Finally, they are driven back inside by blood-thirsty mosquitoes. When they’re both in bed, Stiles turns on his side to face Derek, his heart picking up despite himself. He wants Derek. He does. So why is fear suddenly making his palms sweat and he feels like he can’t do this?

Derek gives him a little smile, stroking his cheek. “Let’s get some rest.”

“But…”

“It’s okay, you know. We have time.”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees reluctantly. Derek pulls him closer, throwing his arm and leg overs. He’s heavy and Stiles can barely move and it’s just perfect. “Good night,” he mumbles and is out before he can hear Derek answer.

 

 

The next morning, he wakes up when the bed dips beside him. Still half asleep, he reaches out his hand, looking for Derek, and groans unhappily when it comes up empty. Beside him, Derek chuckles and Stiles finally pries one his eyes open.

Derek is sitting at the food of bed, already dressed in a soft maroon Henley shirt. On his laps he’s holding a tray with toast with ham and cheese cut to perfect little squares, different types of fruits, nuts and a large glass of juice.

“Breakfast in bed? Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” Derek defensively.

“You’re gonna spoil me.”

“That’s the point. Besides,” Derek toes off his shoes and sits on the bed next to Stiles, leaning against the headboard, “I like spoiling you. You’re mine to spoil however I want.”

“Alright,” Stiles smiles and sits up a little, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. Derek takes a strawberry and carefully brings it Stiles’ lips. It’s sweet and juicy, dribbling a few drops on Stiles’ chin that Derek wipes away with his thumb. Stiles’ heart picks up immediately, feeling a little self-conscious. Is he too sloppy and messy? Does Derek want him to put on a show, moaning and licking his fingers clean?

When he steals a quick glance at the Dom, though, he just gives him a little encouraging smile and Stiles forces a steadying breath through his nose. He’s okay. He’s exactly where Derek wants him. He’s good enough.

Pushing his self-doubting thoughts away with a considerable effort, he finally feels himself settle down, his mind going empty safe for a pleasant warm buzz. Derek feeds him the rest of the breakfast in a slow, relaxed pace and by the time he clears the plate, there’s not a single worry in his mind. His body feels heavy and yet light and he wraps himself around Derek, holding on tight.

The shadows have moved and bright sunlight is streaming through the window by the time he blinks the pleasant drowsiness away, starting to feel restless again.

“Come on,” Derek nudges him. “Get dressed. We’re going on a short hike.”

 

Two hours later, Stiles feels like he’s dying. Sweat is pouring freely down his temples and between his shoulder blades. His lungs, just like about every muscle in his body, are screaming in protest as he slowly drudges through the fallen leaves and twigs up the steep, never-ending hill.

“You’re enjoying my suffering, aren’t you?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Derek grins over his shoulder. He looks as fresh as ever, hardly a drop of sweat on his body.

“This is not a _short_ hike, this is a fucking Mount Everest and I’m just a feeble human, not a muscly god of a werewolf,” he grunts between pants, earning a chuckle from Derek.

“We’re almost there. And the view will be worth it, I promise.”

Stiles is about to collapse on the ground and pout that he’s not making another step when Derek finally declares they’re here. Pushing their way through thick bushes that leave scratches on Stiles’ arms, they find themselves on top of a gorge and the view that opens up makes all protests die on Stiles’ lip.

He does sink down on the soft grass, then, finally resting his exhausted legs, and just takes the scenery in. They’re just so _high_. There’s a waterfall running all the way down the rocks to the stream below but it’s rumbling barely carries to where they are.

He barely notices when Derek joins him on the ground and they’re silent for a long time. Everything seems to stand still and all of sudden, Stiles feels very insignificant compared to the mountains that have formed for millions of years and will still be here millions of years after he’s gone. It’s a good thing, though, and something starts come loose in his chest.

From up here, all his fears and worries don’t seem so overwhelming after all. It’s not important. Everything will work itself out, one way or the other. All that really matters is that he’s here. That he can feel the blades of grass under his hands, that he breathes in all the smells, that he’s _alive._

Feeling a little overwhelmed, he barely notices Derek move and he flinches a little when he hugs Stiles from below. He Stiles sighs, leaning into the warmth, shivering as the sweat starts to cool off.

“I used to come here a lot to brood when my sisters pissed me off.”

“It _is_ a good brooding spot,” Stiles smiles and Derek’s faraway expression lightens up. “Thank you taking me here.”

“You’re welcome. Now come on, we should slowly get moving.”

 

The sun is approaching the horizon by the time they make it back and Stiles curses himself for naively thinking down would be easier. His legs are shaking with exhaustion but he still helps Derek with preparing the burgers for grill. They eat outside again, watching as the stars slowly appear on the darkening sky.

“Alright,” Derek says when they finish with the meal. “I think such a strenuous feat deserves a reward,” he mocks but his eyes crinkle with a fond smile. At the mention of a reward, Stiles sits up with interest. “Come here.”

Derek leads him to the other side of the garden to a large wooden barrel and start undoing the lid covering it.

“Is that a hot tub?” Stiles asks. Sure enough, it’s filled with invitingly steaming water.

“Yep. It takes forever to heat up, though, so I started it before we left. Should be ready.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Stiles says.

“I don’t think you need one,” Derek smiles and takes off his shirt in one fluid motions. Stiles’ mouth runs a little dry and he doesn’t even bother pretending he’s not staring. Derek’s muscles ripple in the chilly evening air. The pants are next and then he gracefully slips into the steaming water.

Stiles quickly shucks off his clothes, leaving them crumpled in the grass and jumps after him. The water feels heavenly, enveloping him in perfect warmth, soothing his sore muscles, and he lets out a sigh. He shuffles awkwardly in the water until he can sit next to Derek, intertwining their legs, and he rests his head on the ledge of the tub to look at stars above.

“This is nice,” he breathes out and just enjoys the peace, disturbed only by the soft sloshing of water and distant rustling of trees.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees and Stiles can feel his eyes on him. There’s only a short moment of tension and then Derek’s kissing him, all hungry and claiming. Stiles loses track of time for while; the world fades into the background and all that matters is Derek’s lips, his body, warm and covered in little droplets of water.

After a while, Derek manhandles him with strong hands to sit on the lip of the tub. His legs are still immersed but his crotch with his dick already at full-mast is out of the water.

“Oh god,” Stiles gasps when Derek takes his cock in his mouth without a warning and he grasp at the tub for purchase. For a moment he’s afraid he’s going to fall over the edge but the tub but then Derek grabs his hips and pins him down. He continues sucking and licking at the head of his dick in an excruciatingly slow pace, nibbling along his shaft, giving it soft kitty-licks. Stiles’ dick twitches helplessly and he just wants to thrust into the pleasure but he can’t, held down as he is.

“Please,” he begs when he feels like he can’t take it anymore and he’s going to _die_ if Derek doesn’t give him more. Derek hums contemplatively against his dick, the vibrations makings his toes curl, but then he concedes and starts sucking him in earnest.

Stiles comes in what is probably an embarrassingly short time and goes completely boneless, sinking into the water, panting. He wants to reciprocate but right now, his body feels like it weighs a ton and is not cooperating.

“Just… give me a minute,” he mutters, fighting to keep his eyes open but he hears Derek laugh somewhere in the distance. Then the world shifts as he’s lifted out of the water and he doesn’t find the energy to really protest when he’s carried inside the house and tucked into bed, with Derek’s body pressing against him, and he’s out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I wanted to write the vacation as a single chapter but it was getting longer and longer and there is still so much I want to include and I don't want to rush it, so I decided to split it. Please tell me what you thought, I feel so lost with this fic:)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what, I'm done making plans for this fic. Here, have a short update, just because I felt like it.

Stiles is sitting on the bed looking at the items displayed in front of him. From the corner of the eye he can see Derek watch him intently. He knows Derek can hear his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. Hell, he can probably smell his nervousness. Stiles only hopes Derek can tell it’s the good type of nerves, the kind that sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

Stiles runs his fingers along  one of the coils of black thin rope, feeling the softness of the material.

“This one.”

Derek nods, satisfied, returns the set a cuffs to the open duffel on the floor.

“And the rest?” Derek asks.

Besides the rope, neatly lined on a towel is a simple black blindfold, a small bottle of lube and a fancy looking, though not very large, butt plug.

“Yes,” Stiles simply.

“Okay, then. Take off your clothes,” Derek orders and takes a step back, watching Stiles expectantly. He’s dressed in a simple black shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans and yet manages to look intimidating.

With shaking fingers, Stiles pulls his shirt over his head. It sticks a little to skin, still slightly wet from the shower he took. In the morning, after they had breakfast, in the kitchen this time, when he asked Derek if he had another hike planned today, he gave him a smile. “Not a hike, no” he said, “but an exercise nonetheless. Why don’t you take a shower. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

So here he was, completely naked, feeling suddenly self-conscious under Derek’s gaze, his hands twitching uselessly at his side, fighting not to cover himself.

Derek joins his hands at wrists in front of him and starts to bind them together with the rope. Immediately Stiles feels the tension leave his body. He’s fine. Derek’s got him. There’s nowhere to run, he’s completely at Derek’s mercy and he’s more than okay with that.

Derek works slowly, methodically, neatly wrapping the rope around Stiles’ wrists several times and already, Stiles feels himself sink deeper, his breaths slowing down.

Once Derek’s done with his wrists he pushes him gently to lie down and guides his bound hands up, where he secures them to the headboard. His feet are next, spread and tied by the ankles to the legs of the bed, and soon he’s completely immobile. He tries a few testing tugs, but there’s barely any give. He’s not going anywhere until Derek lets him and the thought makes his dick twitch helplessly against his belly.

There’s pleasant buzzing in his ears and his mind is filled with an endless stream of _yes, please._ His lids feel surprisingly heavy but he still manages to pry his eyes open to look at Derek, who sitting on the bed next to him, running his warm hand up and down Stiles’ chest.

“You’re so beautiful like this” he murmurs and Stiles feels his cheeks heat up, his dick getting even harder. “My beautiful boy.”

Derek lifts his head a little and slips on the blindfold. The impermeable darkness feels so heavy, pressing against his eyelids, and Stiles immediately misses Derek’s face. He blinks desperately but it’s no use. He can’t see and he swallows hard, his breath quickening despite his best efforts to keep the panic at bay.

Something touches him and he flinches hard, trying to steel for the blow. The pain doesn’t come, though, it’s just a warm hand in the middle of his chest, holding him down. Stiles strains his ears, trying to figure out what’s going on, but the pounding of blood is too loud. He waits for Theo to move his hand up to his neck, to choke, or for another blow to land somewhere, unexpected…

Wait, that’s not right. Not Theo. He’s not there anymore, is he? But he can’t tell, because he can’t _see._

“Stiles?” a voice asks, worried.

Stiles struggles for a moment to string together a coherent thought but once he does, the words come tumbling out. “Stop. I mean, red. Red!”

The blindfold comes off immediately and Stiles blinks into the light. The next moment he’s free, the ropes still hanging of his wrists and ankles, and Derek’s cradling him to his chest.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he keeps repeating, while holding him close.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m fine. We can continue, I swear. If we just skip the blindfold…”

“No, we’re done, Stiles. You did great. It’s okay.”

Stiles buries his head in Derek’s chest, feeling like he might cry. He’s ruined everything, including the ropes that are now cut clean, presumably by Derek’s claws. When he looks up at Derek, the words of apology die on his lips when he sees the beaming smile.

“I’m so proud of you, Stiles.”

“You – you are?” Stiles asks, uncertainly.

“Oh yeah, you were perfect. You let me know when you needed to stop. I’m very, very pleased.”

“Oh,” Stiles says dumbly. There’s still a nagging doubt in the back of his mind, whispering that this can’t be right.  He’s still naked but it doesn’t feel good anymore, making him feel unpleasantly vulnerable instead.

Derek moves away a little and Stiles lets out a little whine of protest. He can’t be alone right now, he can’t. Without Derek, there’s no escaping the self-doubting, self-destructive thoughts that are lurking just below the surface of his mind.

“I’m just grabbing your clothes,” Derek assures. Once Stiles is redressed and free of the rope remains, Derek leads him out of the room and to the couch, where he wraps him in a blanket and then lies down, bringing Stiles to lie on top of him, holding him close.

“I’m fine,” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s shirt.

“Hm,” Derek hums. “Indulge me.”

Stiles doesn’t argue after that and just enjoys the closeness, keeping his mind blank and his breathing in sync with Derek’s.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” Derek asks after a while.

“I didn’t know I would freak out like this,” Stiles says quickly. He would hate for Derek to think he decided to just brave it out and not tell Derek he didn’t want the blindfold. “I just- I don’t know, got confused where I am. I like seeing you, I guess.”

“Okay,” Derek nods. “I would really like you to think about what else might upset you. So that we can avoid it, if possible.”

Stiles nods reluctantly. He would much rather leave his memories be where they are, buried under a solid layer of denial and repression and not think too much about all the things he’s done with Theo, all the things that were done to him and he let it happen just to win his Dom’s approval.

“But I am glad this happened,” Derek says.

“You are?”

“Yeah, because now you know what happens if you use the safeword. That I won’t be mad or disappointed. On the contrary.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, milling it over in his head. It does make sense and so much fondness towards Derek swells in his chest in makes him a little giddy. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Derek answers easily. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

They stay on the couch, cuddled, until hunger drives them out and they get out to prepare some lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments keep me alive and writing, I'm always looking forward to reading what you thought. I hope you don't mind this is getting longer than I ever anticipated...:)


	21. Chapter 21

When Stiles seems stable enough, Derek leaves him in the kitchen and slips back to the bedroom to clean up the mess they left behind. He unties the rope and throws the offending blindfold, lying innocently on the bed, back to his bag.

It was a bad idea and he could have known. Of course, his intentions were good, he just wanted Stiles to focus more inwards, on what he’s feeling, instead of being distracted by watching Derek. Being in the dark might be scary though, especially for someone with bad experience like Stiles. It requires a lot of trust on the sub’s side and Stiles was clearly not ready. But then again, using a safeword requires just as much trust, doesn’t it?

No use beating himself up though, Derek thinks as he toes the bag back under the bed. The scene might not have gone as expected but he still counts that as progress and another wave of pride swells in his chest just thinking about it.

It starts to rain after lunch. Stiles leans against the window, watching the downpour disdainfully.

“No hike today, huh. What are we gonna do?”

“I know the perfect thing to do in this weather,” Derek hugs Stiles from behind, hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” Stiles perks up immediately. Derek can feel his pulse pick up and not-so-subtle waft of arousal catches his nose. Stiles is clearly still worked up from earlier and he looks up at Derek hopefully.

“Yep, wait here.”

A moment later, Derek deposits a large box on the table with a loud thud. It sends off a cloud of dust that makes Derek wrinkle his nose and there are a few cobwebs hanging in several places. Curiously, Stiles comes over and takes a peek inside.

“Wait, what – ”

Derek can’t help but smile at Stiles’ expression as he pulls out boardgames, stacking them on top of each other next to the box. They’re all used, the boxes torn and crumpled, and Derek is immediately flooded by fond memories of playing with his family, which usually involved a lot of bickering and arguing with his sisters.

“These are awesome! Oh man, look, these are all classics. Can we play?”

“Sure, pick a game. Choose wisely, though. If you manage to beat me, you’ll get to come tonight. If I win, though, I’m gonna tie you up, tease you until you beg for it and leave you all frustrated until tomorrow.”

Stiles’ eyes grow wide and his arousal peaks immediately, its heavy smell making Derek’s mouth water. He squirms uncomfortably in the chair, swallowing hard, and then lets out a shaky breath. “Okay. It’s on. I’ve been playing games since I could talk, there’s no way I’m gonna lose.”

“Is that so?” Derek grins.

After a long deliberation, Stiles picks up Carcassone. They clear up the table and set the game up. Derek sits next to Stiles, placing his hand high on Stiles’ thigh, his little finger brushing against Stiles’ crotch, and just leaves it there.

Forty minutes later, Stiles groans in frustration as Derek places his last tile and starts to count the points even though it’s pretty obvious who the winner is.

“You know what, that’s not fair. You’re distracting me, I can’t think,” Stiles glares at Derek’s hand. “Two out of three? Please?”

“Hm,” Derek leans back in his chair, considering. “Fine. You’d owe me two orgasms, though.”

Stiles’ breath hitches and he hesitates. His inner battle is short, though, and soon he sags and nods his head. “Alright. Fine. Let’s do it. You’re gonna be death of me,” he mutters under his breath as he resets the game.

There’s a look of complete concentration during the next game that Derek finds endearing. His eyebrows are drawn close, eyes intently on the board and his mouth is set in a line. Derek finds he’s watching Stiles more than the game and is not really surprised when he loses.  The third game he doesn’t even try that hard. Oh, he loves teasing Stiles but right now he’s more looking forward to making him come undone with pleasure.

“Yes!” Stiles slams his hands on the table when the points are counted. “Ha! I told you!”

“Alright, you win,” Derek says with a grin, not one bit disappointed. Stiles’ smile disappears the next moment and he looks at Derek expectantly.

“Alright, come on now,” Derek grabs him by the back of the neck and leads him back upstairs.

Stiles goes pliantly, stripping without a word when Derek orders him to, standing once again naked in the middle of the room, biting his lip in nervous anticipation.

“You’re okay,” Derek reassures him softly as he gets the set of cuffs and attaches them to Stiles’ wrists and ankles. They’re black leather with soft padding inside and look beautiful on him, even though Derek still would have preferred the rope. He makes a mental note to order new ones as soon as they get home.

Stiles lets himself be manhandled to the middle of the bed and watches Derek intently as he secures each limb to the bed’s posts. Once he’s done, Derek takes a moment to just look over his work. Now that’s a sight he won’t get tired of any time soon – Stiles stretched spread-eagle, his muscles taut. The black cuffs, as well as the collar form such a stark contrast with his milky white skin dotted with countless spots. His dick, hard and leaking, is straining against his belly and begging for attention.

Derek takes his time to undress, letting Stiles’ anticipation build, and then settles between Stiles’ legs, running a single finger along his shaft, enjoying the way it makes him jerk. Stiles’ chest is rising and falling rapidly as he pants through his nose, watching Derek silently with wide blown eyes.

“Here’s the plan,” Derek says thoughtfully, while massaging Stiles’ balls. “I’m gonna make you cum and then I’m gonna fuck you until you cum again. Sounds good?” It’s probably for the best that Stiles knows what’s about to happen. All Stiles manages is a jerky nod of his head. It’s such a strange sight, seeing the always-chatty Stiles go completely non-verbal so fast.

Eager to get the show on the road, Derek reaches into his bag for the bottle of lube, condom and the butt plug. It’s his favorite toy  and he knows Stiles will come to appreciate it as well once he learns all its features.

For now, he slicks his finger and rubs it against Stiles’ opening, making the muscles flutter and spasm as he gently but steadily presses inside. He adds the second finger soon after, taking his time to loosen up Stiles a little before reaching for the butt plug.

He presses the toy inside slowly, watching in fascination as Stiles’ hole stretches around it. It’s not big but Stiles still groans when the widest part goes in. He pulls it in and out a few more times, working Stiles open, before leaving it, settled nicely against Stiles’ prostate.

Derek presses the button and the plug starts to vibrate. It’s almost comical, the way Stiles’ eyes grow impossibly wide and he buckles uselessly in his restrains.

Derek sits on his heels, watching Stiles squirm for a minute. “Oh, I love this one. And it has a remote. We will have so much fun with it, I’m sure.”

Stiles’ ignored dick twitches, precome gathering on Stiles’ stomach. “Oh my god, Derek, please!” Stiles lifts his head to look at Derek with pleading eyes and Derek runs his hand on his thigh and stomach.

“Please what?”

“Please Sir?”

Derek chuckles. “You need to be more specific, sweetheart.”

“Please touch my dick,” Stiles grits out and his cheeks turn red.

Derek starts to stroke Stiles firm, steady strokes, bringing him to orgasm quickly. Stiles goes completely still for a moment, shooting all across his stomach with a moan, and then sags, panting.

“Derek!” Stiles snaps his head up, a slight panic in his eyes, when Derek doesn’t turn the vibrator off.

“Alright,” Derek presses the button, deciding to take mercy on him, and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief, sagging again. Derek reaches behind to unclip Stiles’ ankles and then leans down to kiss him, slow and relaxed, giving Stiles a moment to collect himself.

Once his breathing slows down a little, Derek pulls out the toy with a wet plop and then wastes no time to replace it with his dick. Stiles is stretched but nowhere near enough for it not to hurt as Derek thrust inside in one fluid motion until he is sheathed all the way up the hilt.

Stiles groans and bites his lips, clenching around Derek’s dick. It feels perfect, tight and warm, and Derek struggles to stay still, giving Stiles time to get used to the stretch. Soon Stiles starts squirm impatiently, looking at Derek pleadingly, huffing in frustration.

Finally, Derek gives in to his own desire and starts to thrust, pulling all the way out and then back in slow controlled pace. He starts to stroke Stiles’ dick which has gone soft in the meantime, bringing it back to hardness.

Derek draws it out, fucking Stiles leisurely, while rubbing the head of Stiles’ dick with his thumb. Only when there is a sheen of sweat covering Stiles’ whole body and he keeps a steady stream of desperate little sounds does he grab Stiles hips, lifting his up a little and angling himself to make sure he hits the sweet spot and starts to thrust in in earnest.

 “You first,” Derek tells Stiles and starts jerking him as he feels his own orgasm approach. Stiles comes with a strangled cry, only a few drops of come spurting out, and the way he clenches around Derek sends him over the edge as well.

Derek collapses on the bed but not before quickly unclipping the cuffs from the bed. Stiles curls on his side, pressing close to Derek, who runs his hand up and down his back. Once he gets his panting breaths under control, his eyes start to droop.

“Hey, no falling asleep yet,” Derek admonishes softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Uh, don’t wanna,” Stiles mumbles.

“Alright, I’m just gonna get a towel,” Derek tries to sit up but Stiles latches even tighter and whines in protest. “Or not,” Derek chuckles and throws his arm over Stiles who already looks deep asleep.

 

“Ew,” Stiles complains when he wakes up some time later, dry come flaking from his stomach.

“I told you to get cleaned up,” Derek grumbles, still half-asleep.

“I’m taking the shower now,” Stiles turns to get out of the bed but Derek grabs him and pulls him back.

“Okay, but first – your thoughts? Did you like it?”

“Oh,” blinks in surprise, clearly not used to giving feedback. “I liked it. A lot. All of it.”

“Okay, I’m glad,” Derek smiles and adds, “Me too.”

Stiles hesitates a little and Derek prods. “It’s okay if you want to change something. I won’t be offended.”

“No, it’s just… When you made me ask for - you know, what I want, that was… embarrassing.” Immediately, Derek is worried that he overstepped, with humiliation was clearly off the limits, but then Stiles continues eagerly. “But I liked it! I never thought I would, so… That was new.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Derek says honestly, kissing Stiles softly. “Now let’s hit the shower.”

 

 

The last evening of their vacation comes way too soon. They last couple of days have been filled with lazy cuddling in bed with an occasional blow job and fucking, strolling around the woods, looking for berries and mushrooms, and talking about silly things as if the outside world didn’t exist.

But as their return draws near, the reality comes crushing back to Stiles, who has been currently sitting on the porch for over an hour, just staring into the darkness of the surrounding woods. Finally, Derek decides to join him, grabbing a blanket on his way and throwing it around Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles pulls the blanket closer and gives Derek a grateful smile but doesn’t break the silence. Derek can practically see the heavy thoughts milling Stiles’ head as they sit side by side, listening to rumbling of leaves in the wind, interrupted only by the hooting of an owl somewhere in the distance.

“I sorta don’t want to go back,” Stiles says finally and looks at an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry,” he sighs in frustration, rubbing his hand over his face. “I just… I don’t know what to do.” He looks at Derek with pleading eyes, as if begging him to figure Stiles’ life out for him.

 _Talk to your dad_ , Derek wants to say. _Press charges against Raeken. Go back to college_. But it’s not that easy, is it? He can’t just tell Stiles what to do and magically fix everything and he can’t feed him empty promises that everything will be alright. As long as Stiles is convinced that everything bad that happened is his fault and that he doesn’t deserve to be happy, there’s not much Derek can do, and the helplessness makes him want to punch a wall. Or Raeken.

“I know this therapist,” Derek starts and Stiles looks up alarmed. He opens his mouth but Derek continues before he can voice his protests. “After my family died, she helped me a lot. You know, to put things into perspective. I’ll make you an appointment.”

“But- That’s not… I don’t-”

Derek doesn’t back up and soon Stiles’ shoulders slump in resignation. “Okay. If you think that’s what’s best.”

“Thank you,” Derek says softly, taking Stiles’ cold hands in his, rubbing some warmth in. “Come on, let’s go inside, you’re ice cold.”

Stiles remains uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the evening, his misery radiating from him all across the room.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Derek asks after dinner that Stiles has barely touched. He just shrugs, though, not lifting his eye from the floor.

“Alright,” Derek sighs, clearly recognizing Stiles slipping to some dark place, his head probably filled with self-doubt again. He grabs Stiles by the collar and leads him to the couch, gently but resolutely pressing him to kneel on the floor, while he keeps a steadying hand on the back of his neck, feeling the tension coiled in his shoulders.

“You’re mine,” he says softly, running his fingers in Stiles’ hair, tugging gently. “And I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. You’re not alone in this.”

To Derek’s surprise, Stiles lets out a choked-off sound and then his shoulders start to shake with the force of his sobs. He wraps his arms around Derek’s legs and continues to cry violently into the fabric of Derek’s pants while Derek keeps running his hand in soothing circles on his back.

Derek doesn’t try to stop and shush him, just waits for him to get it out of his system. It seems to go on forever but finally the subside and Stiles slumps, only small tremors running through him. Derek helps him up on the couch, holding him close to his chest, wiping his tears away with a tissue.

“So… Avengers again?” he asks after a while when it’s clear Stiles is in no mood to talk. He laughs wetly and nods, curling even closer as Derek puts on the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find that sometimes the best solution to stress is to have a good cry, wouldn't you agree? Let me know what you think, or if I left in any mistakes/typos.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, another chapter is here. I sacrificed much needed sleep to get it done so I hope you appreciate it:) I love you all

Coming back home is no fun. Already on the way Stiles feels his mood plummet, turning sour, without being able to put his finger on why exactly. Yet the irritation is there, ugly and heavy, growing stronger every minute.

Stiles throws his bag into the corner as soon as they’re inside the apartment. The stuffy old air attacks his lung and he immediately misses the smell of pines and leaves after rain. When he opens all windows, the hum of traffic with occasional honking and sirens grates Stiles’ ears and sets his teeth on edge.

“Stiles, why don’t you put the laundry in the washing machine, I’ll order us some pizza.”

Stiles doesn’t spare Derek a glance as he heads to the bathroom, loudly banging the door shut behind him, his teeth clenched hard to stop himself from snapping something. He needs a shower. Yes, a long relaxing shower, that’ll take care of the tension, won’t it?

Letting the hot water run over his face and ears, he zones out for a while and only comes back to when the water starts turning cold. His skin has turned pink and his fingers are wrinkled when he reluctantly shuts the shower off.  He takes his time toweling off, delaying having to go back as much as possible. He can’t do this. Everything’s just… _too much._ The idea of all his life ahead of him, shapeless and threatening, is overwhelming, crushing him down to the floor, making it hard to breathe properly.

A pizza box is already sitting on the table by the time he finally makes himself leave the bathroom. Derek is leaning against the kitchen counter, watching Stiles thoughtfully.

“Everything alright?” Derek asks and the gentle tone makes his irritation flare up.

“Sure,” he snaps. “Why wouldn’t I be.”

Derek doesn’t take the bait and just hums as he puts a slice of pepperoni pizza on a plate and hands it to him. “Let’s eat and then we can call it a night. Tomorrow it won’t seem that bad, trust me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Stiles,” Derek says with a hint of warning. Distantly, Stiles realizes this is when he should just shut up, force the slice in, and stop being such an _ass._ But the bubble of anger inside keeps rising to the surface and it bursts as soon as Stiles opens his mouth.

“No! Stop treating me like some stupid kid. I said I’m not hungry, why do you even care?” He throws the plate on the table from where he’s standing. It lands with a loud clank as a part of the plate breaks off, sending the slice down to the floor. Toppings-side down, of course.

Stiles watches the mess, his heart beating loudly in the ensuing moment of stunned silence. Then, before he can even summon the words to apologize, Derek grabs him by the neck and drags him over to the table. Stiles lets himself go limp as Derek bends him over, pressing his face to the cold hard surface while pinning his wrists together at his back with his other hand.

“I care,” he all but growls, “because you’re still severely underweight and I will not let you starve yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against the table, not sure if Derek can even hear him.

“You are wearing my collar and you are mine to take care of. Are we clear?” With a final push, Derek releases him and Stiles straightens up carefully.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry,” Stiles mutters, not daring to lift his eyes from the floor. He can’t stand seeing Derek angry at him right now.

“Now, clean up the mess. Then we’ll eating dinner.”

Stiles nods, but as he’s about to dive to the floor, Derek places a hand on his arm to stop him. “Look at me,” he orders softly.

Stiles swallows thickly and looks up. To his surprise, there’s not a trace of anger on Derek’s face, only a fond smile. He cups his face and Stiles leans into the touch.

“Don’t think I won’t remind you who’s in charge if you need me to,” he smiles, brushing his finger across Stiles’ cheek. “I don’t want to hear another word for the rest of the evening, okay? Unless you’re safewording. You can always safeword, you know that, right?”

Stiles nods mutely and Derek lets him go. “Good boy. Go on, then,” he jerks his head to the pizza still lying on the floor

When he takes care of the mess, he plates himself another slice and they eat in silence. It doesn’t feel oppressive though. On the contrary, the angry turmoil in his head has gone quiet, too, replaced by the easy certainty that he knows what to do. He’s slowly chewing the now cold pizza without having to think about what to say. He’s being good; he’s doing exactly what Derek told him.

For the rest of the evening, Derek gives him a series of softly-spoken orders like _wash the dishes_ or  _put on your pyjamas_ and _brush your teeth._ They’re easy to follow and with every praise from Derek, a pleasant calmness settles deep in his bones. He doesn’t think past the task on hand and soon he finds himself tucked in bed, curled next to Derek, limbs tired and heavy. All of the sudden, surreal gratefulness overwhelms him and his eyes prickle. He wants to thank Derek but it’s not tomorrow yet and he’s not supposed to speak. It’s fine though, because he would never be able to even remotely express it in words anyway, so he just cuddles closer and lets himself drift to sleep.

 

It is better the next day, Stiles admits grudgingly. It’s hard to feel all that gloomy when he slowly comes to pressed against Derek’s warm chest, as the Dom gently runs his fingers through his hair. He’s already up, sitting propped against the headboard, browsing the internet on his phone. The smell of coffee from the kitchen is strong enough to carry even to Stiles’ human nose.

“Good morning,” he tries, uncertain, but Derek gives him a reassuring smile. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, well, I have some catching up to do at work. I hope the place hasn’t been set on fire without me,” Derek smiles and then adds, more seriously, “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Stiles nods automatically and then is a little surprised to find he really means it. He’s feeling grounded and the fear and insecurities have faded. Not quite disappeared, never gone completely, but ignorable.

“Okay,” Derek nods. “But you can call or text me anytime. I mean it.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’ll call the therapist. If you’re still up to it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles nods, determined. He’s thought about it a lot, ever since Derek brought it up. The idea of talking to a stranger is absolutely terrifying on one hand and yet tempting. Stiles’ chest aches when he imagines being able to unload all his dark and ugly thoughts and fears to someone impartial, someone who won’t judge or even particularly care. Plus, he knows it will ease Derek’s mind.

As soon as Derek leaves for work, Stiles starts up the computer and opens his emails, drumming his fingers nervously as he watches it load. A disappointed huff escapes him when he sees no new emails and he slumps in his chair. No of course there wouldn’t be any, he did tell Lydia he’s leaving for a few days…

The ping of a new Hangout message makes him jump up and he eagerly opens it.

_Lydia: Hi Stiles, how did you enjoy your vacation?_

Stiles rereads it several times, his heart beating. He can’t tell if it’s a genuine question or she’s being sarcastic, mad that he just took time off, such a short time after she graciously landed him this gig. The message doesn’t get any clearer the longer he keeps staring at it though. It takes him way too long to put together his reply and once he hits send, his heart picks up even more.

_Stiles: Hello Lydia, yes, I did, thank you for understanding. I am feeling much better and ready to take on more responsibilities, if you’ll have me. I’m also available for Skype at any time or I can come by whenever you want, whatever works best for you. Thank you!_

He chews on fingernail, watching the three dots as she types her reply. Is he being too pushy? Fuck, he’s definitely too pushy. Should he also tell her he’s starting therapy soon? Seems a bit too personal but she did tell him to take care of himself.

And if she does give him another chance and he freaks out again? Then he’s fucked and he can start looking for kitchen aid jobs again.

It’s just that he desperately needs to move on, to not feel stuck in this weird limbo. If he had a semi-stable job in the field and went to therapy, then maybe – maybe it’d be enough to show up for himself. Maybe then he could go to his dad and say _, I know I fucked up but I’m doing better, see, I’m not a complete loser._

He misses his dad more than he has in the year he’s been with Theo when most of the time he was too out of himself to really think about it. Now, ever since he talked about him with Derek, it feels like this gaping hole has opened in his chest.

But he can’t go back now, not like this.

Despite his best efforts to quell it, hope has found its way into Stiles’ heart, a feeling that maybe not all is lost, that maybe his dad might forgive him one day if he gets his life together first, if he’s good enough. But it would kill him to see the disappointment on his dad’s face if he knew what a wreck he is right now.

 _I’m glad to hear that_ , Lydia answers finally, bringing Stiles back from his thoughts. _I’ll look into it and see what I can do. There might not be a permanent position at the moment but I might be able to get you a half-time job. I’ll be in touch._

Stiles lets out a breath. That has to be better than nothing, right? Definitely not a direct rejection.

Feeling renewed energy in his veins, he decides to clean the apartment to make himself useful. He’s finishing with vacuuming the living room, sweat already gathering on his forehead, when his phone starts to ring, startling him.

Nervously he grabs it from the charger and then grins when he sees the caller’s name.

“Hey, Scotty! What’s up!”

“Stiles, hi. I’m good, how are you?”

There’s background noise of people talking and laughing and it immediately brings Stiles back to his time in college. Scott has probably some time to kill between classes and Stiles plops on the couch to make himself comfortable.

“I’m fine, I was- ”

“I’m sorry,” Scott interrupts, sounding a little breathless. “I’m just running to a class but there’s something you should probably know. This dude came up to me and said he was a friend of yours and he’s trying to get in touch with you. And I, uh, sorta gave him your number. But now I’m thinking that I maybe shouldn’t have?”

Cold dread starts to pool in Stiles stomach and his ears start to ring. He knows he’s clutching the phone too hard but he can’t make himself uncurl his fingers.

“Stiles! Are you there? I’m sorry, I didn’t really think it through, and I know he looked familiar but I didn’t realize…”

Any last hope that it was someone else, maybe one of the few people he worked on a group project with, evaporates. Of course there’s only one person who’d be looking for him. Theo’s out of jail and he’s looking for him, Stiles thinks hysterically, and suddenly the collar feels to tight.

“Thank you for the heads up,” he croaks out finally, ending the call. He throws the phone on the coffee table and starts to pace the room. It’s fine, he tries to tell himself. It’s just a phone number. He can change the number. Theo doesn’t know where he lives. He can’t hurt him through the phone. It’s fine.

The rush of adrenaline slowly fading, Stiles collapses back on the couch. He barely gets his breathing to slow down, his head still spinning, when the phone starts to vibrate loudly against the table.

An unknown number.

Stiles fumbles with the power button with shaky fingers, finally managing to the turn the phone off. Taking the blanket folded neatly over the couch, he curls up into a ball, hugging his knees close, and buries himself in the comforting darkness.


	23. Chapter 23

Stiles can’t breathe. It’s hot and stuffy and dark and he can’t remember what he’s done and why he’s being punished. Then there’s a hand on his shoulder and Stiles flails his arms desperately before he can stop himself.

The blanket is drawn off his face and he gulps the fresh air. Derek is sitting on the coffee table, concern clearly written on his face.

“Stiles, hey, it’s okay, it’s me. Are you okay?”

Stiles blinks blearily, the reality crushing back. The phone is still lying turned off on the table and Stiles’ heart skips a beat. The sun is high and streaming through the window and Stiles looks at him in confusion.

“Why are you here?”

“You didn’t answer any of my messages. I tried calling you but phone’s off. I was worried.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I, uh, I must have fallen asleep.”

“But why is your phone off?”

“I forgot to charge it.”

Derek leans back, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, and Stiles knows right away he caught the lie. After a beat of silence, though, he just hums, clearly deciding to give Stiles the benefit of the doubt, which solidifies Stiles’ guilt even more. He should tell Derek – and he will, but not just now. He would freak out and probably insist on staying home and missing even more work. It’s nothing. He’ll tell him in the evening.

“Alright then. At least we can eat lunch together since I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says unhappily, untangling himself from the blanket. “I didn’t mean to worry you. You don’t have stay here with me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’re much better company, anyway” Derek waves his hand and gets two plates from the kitchen. Only now does Stiles notice the two take-away containers sitting on the counter.

During lunch, Stiles catches Derek giving him scrutinizing looks and Stiles focuses hard on not giving away the nerves that are thrumming just under the surface. Clearly he’s convincing enough because after lunch, Derek kisses him, squeezing him in a long, tight hug and leaves the apartment, calling, “And turn on phone. Please,” over his shoulder.

Once alone, Stiles takes his phone, his finger hovering over the power button, and it takes him way too long to finally make himself press it. Once it starts, the number of notifications makes heart triple in speed. He does calm down a bit when he sees most of them are from Derek but there is one new message from the unknown number and Stiles opens it, stomach in painful knots.

_Hello Stiles, I’m sorry about what happened and that I’ve disappeared on you like this. I miss you so much. Where have you been? I’ve been so worried. Can we meet for lunch? I know I’ve behaved like a jerk lately but I really do love you. I just want to talk. Please call me. Theo._

Stiles stares at the message until his vision starts to blur and he remembers to blink. _What?_ Just… _what?_ He feels as if he’s just entered the Twilight Zone. For a moment, a doubt creeps into his mind. Has he imagined it all? But then he remembers all the times he begged Theo to stop and he didn’t. Remembers the times he starved him and beat him for the smallest infringements. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t, and he has to remember that. That’s not how it’s supposed to be and Derek’s shown him that over and over again.

In the end, Stiles just blocks the number and throws the phone in a drawer.

 

In the evening Stiles feels exhausted even though he barely did anything. His anxiety together with the never-ceasing turmoil of thoughts and _what-ifs_ has left him feeling drained and yet he knows he won’t be able to get much sleep.

A bit of the tension loosens up when Derek finally comes back. Stiles hovers next to him the whole time they make dinner, drawn to his steady presence.

“How was work?” Stiles ask over their home-made burgers.

“It was okay,” Derek shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “But I’m afraid I have some bad news. Raeken has been released on bail.”

“Oh,” Stiles says carefully, trying to keep his face blank. “But – that’s just until trial, right?”

“Sure, but – Stiles, there’s really not that much to charge him with. He’s first time offender, we couldn’t prove the intent to sell the drugs and nobody’s talking. He’ll probably just end up with probation”

“I see,” Stiles says tersely, burger turning to ashes in his mouth. Stiles’ hope that he’ll just keep ignoring him and he’ll go away is starting to crumble. Theo’s not going behind bars. He’ll just go back to college and go on with his life while Stiles is a mess, struggling to pick up the pieces of himself. And he’ll keep looking for Stiles until he finds him, no matter how many times he changes his number. This town is not that big. Or, and Stiles is not sure which is worse, he’ll just move onto another poor sub.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks and the worry on his face physically pains Stiles.

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugs. “I mean, it’s not fair. It sucks. But he can’t- He can’t hurt me anymore, right?”

“I’d never let him,” Derek says fiercely, his eyes hard. In that moment, Stiles is convinced Derek would go and do something stupid, like ruin his life and career, just to protect Stiles and he knows he won’t be able to tell him about the phone number. Instead, he takes Derek’s hand and forces a smile.

“Then I’ll be fine.”

 

 “You’re so tense,” Derek notes as they cuddle in bed later that night, running his hand between Stiles’ shoulder blades.

Stiles jolts out from his thoughts. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Derek scoffs and then asks gently, “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“I just – I just want my mind to shut up for a while,” Stiles admits, looking at Derek hopefully. He wants that floaty feeling when nothing but Derek matters, when he feels untouchable and safe. Yeah, he definitely wants to feel safe, and not reeling, spiraling out of control as his mind supplies one catastrophic scenario after another.

“Come on then,” Derek nudges him out of the bed and Stiles goes, even if a little surprised. He honestly expected Derek to just fuck him into the mattress, which Stiles thinks would work just fine.

He lets Derek undress him, lifting his arms to help and stepping out of his pajama pants. Soon he’s standing completely naked in the middle of the room, goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. Derek watches him with a strange intensity and a glint in his eyes that makes Stiles want to squirm. He can’t really understand what Derek sees in him but the Dom’s attention makes him feel all warm on the inside.

Finally, Derek turns around and opens the closet. After a moment he comes back with a black leather flogger and Stiles’ heart picks up at the sight of it. Derek offers it to him for inspection and Stiles runs his fingers along the falls in fascination. They’re just so soft. He’s never had a flogger used on him but it doesn’t look all that intimidating. Not like a cane or a belt, that’s for sure. Those two can shred his skin to pieces if wielded with enough strength.

Taking his hand away, Stiles nods. Derek gives him one of his reassuring little smiles, that loosens all the remaining knots in his stomach and Stiles lets out a deep breath. He’s safe in Derek’s hands.

Derek guides him to brace with both his palms against the wall, legs apart. Stiles’ breathing picks up, his skin already tingling in anticipation. He strains his ears for the swish of the flogger but nothing comes and after a moment he settles down.

“We’re gonna do a numbering system. One is no pain at all, ten is basically a safeword.”

Stiles nods and the flogger lands on his back before he has a chance to tense up. A little gasp escapes Stiles’ lips, more a surprise than pain really. It stings significantly less than Stiles was expecting, more a deep thud that seems Stiles’ mind struggles to interpret.

“Number?” Derek prompts.

“I, uh. Three. Four, I don’t – I don’t know,” Stiles stumbles over his words.

“Alright,” Derek says easily, not at all annoyed, and then starts flogging Stiles in earnest. He gets into a steady rhytm and just a minute in Stiles feels his whole body is on fire, tingling and aching. His mind goes blank and he closes his eyes. In the darkness nothing but the sensation exists and he lets himself be consumed by it.

When Derek takes a break after a while, Stiles is surprised to find that he’s panting, his hair sticking to his forehead. Derek runs a hand against his back, rubbing the pain even deeper, and hums appreciatively.

He resumes flogging with what feels much more strength and Stiles scrambles uselessly for purchase against the smooth wall, rising up involuntary on his toes. There is no escaping, though, and Stiles hangs his head between his shoulder, not even fighting the little sounds he makes on every impact.

“Number,” Derek asks again after what feels like eternity and it takes a while to penetrate through the pleasant fog in Stiles brain and for the words to connect.

Derek waits patiently and finally Stiles croaks out, “Eight.”

“Okay. Ten more and we’re done.”

The last ten are the hardest and yet seem to be over instantly. When he hears the clatter as Derek throws the flogger away, Stiles sags and would have probably slid down on the floor if Derek wasn’t there to catch him and lead him to bed.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You were amazing,” Derek murmurs, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.

Stiles cuddles closer and is kind of surprised that he is half-hard, his dicking brushing against Derek’s thigh.

“Do you want to take care of it?” Derek asks and something dark pierces through the pleasant buzz in Stiles’ head at the idea.

“I, uh… no?”

“That’s fine. It doesn’t have to be about sex, you know? It’s okay.”

Stiles sags, going completely boneless. “Thank you,” he mumbles, overwhelmingly grateful for just being able to lie and float.

This time, Derek does not let him falls asleep, though, but gently coaxes him out of bed and draws him a bath. The warm water feels absolutely heavenly, seeping all the residual ache from his muscles.  

They go to sleep then but Stiles is awake long after Derek falls asleep, his breathing deep and even. He keeps staring at the ceiling, his mind going in circles but he knows what he needs to do. Resolved, he reaches for his phone charging at the nightstand and quickly types a message to Theo: _Can we meet tomorrow?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a terrible, no-good plan and we'll see how it plays out in the next chapter.
> 
> By the way, I hope you enjoyed the flogging scene at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it:) Have a nice day and see you next week!


	24. Chapter 24

“I’m home,” Derek calls out as he steps into the apartment, throwing his key on a shelf, trying hard to keep his frustration out of his voice. He hates days like – he went from one meeting to another, filled with endless discussions of administrative stuff and fighting for every dollar in his budget. It’s nonsense, wasting his precious time that he could have spent working on their case of new meth dealers in town. Or figuring out how to send Raeken behind bars.

It takes him a while to figure out something’s wrong. The apartment is unnaturally still and silent and there is no one welcoming him.

“Stiles?” he calls out, scanning the apartment with his eyes, listening for any sounds. He’s about to go check the bedroom but stops dead in his track when he notices Stiles’ shoes are gone. An uneasy feeling starts to settle in his chest but he forces it down. It’s fine. Stiles has probably just gone to the grocery store or something.

There is no note anywhere in the apartment and no new messages in Derek’s phone, though, and it doesn’t feel right. Stiles wouldn’t have gone out without letting Derek know where he is, would he? Or is Derek being paranoid?

Oh, fuck it, Derek thinks as he dials Stiles’ number, risking he’d come off as over-protective. He lets the phone ring for good two minutes before giving up, the uneasy feeling coming back with renewed fervor.

Fifteen minutes, he decides finally. He’ll give Stiles fifteen minutes to come home and then he’ll give himself a permission to worry. In the meantime, he starts on the dinner, laying out the ingredients, chopping vegetables, setting up the pans.

Soon there’s nothing more to do and Derek grabs his phone again, going to his call history.

This time, the call connects almost immediately and a wary voice answers, “Yes?”

“Hi, hello Scott, this is Derek-”

“Who?” the boy asks and Derek wants to growl in frustration.

“Derek! We talked before, remember? Stiles’ dom? Oh, whatever. Is Stiles there with you?”

“What? No. No, I haven’t talked to him since…well, yesterday. Shit. Is he missing?”

“He’s not home. I don’t know where he went.”

“Okay, you should probably know that there was this guy looking for him and I gave him Stiles’ number- ”

“You what?” Derek barks, hot anger flaring in chest, drowning the worry for a while. _Raeken._

“Look, I didn’t –“

“I’m gonna go look for him,” Derek interrupts, not willing to waste any more time with this idiot. “Let me know if you hear anything.”

With pounding heart, Derek quickly slips back into his shoes and runs out of the apartment. Once on the street, he forces himself to calm down and focus. Reaching inside him for his wolf, he flares his nostrils. Stiles. He needs to find Stiles’ scent and then he can track him like he did on the night of the full moon. It’ll be alright. It has to.

Finally he picks up the familiar scent but it’s weak. It must have been hours since Stiles was here and the drizzling rain that started a while back washed most of it away. It still gives him hope and he starts following the trail. It leads him downtown but the farther he gets, the fainter it becomes, mingled with other people’s scents, dogs’ pee and fumes from the traffic, until it fades away completely, leaving Derek standing in the middle of a street, completely lost.

Blind panic starts to grip him. He’s gone. Stiles’ gone, he lost him. He promised he would protect him and he failed. Collapsing on the nearest bench, he feels his claws extend, his control slipping.

Oh fuck. He needs to get a hold of himself. He can’t wolf out in the middle of a busy street or there’ll be hell to pay and he can’t afford it. Not when he needs to find Stiles.

Burying his claws deep into the muscles of his thighs, he feels the pain stave off worst of the shift. Blood is pouring freely from the wounds, staining his jeans, but Derek doesn’t care. It’ll heal.

At least his mind feels clearer again. He needs to report it, Derek realizes, already pulling out his phone and then hesitates. There’s no way Stiles’ dad won’t find out if he calls it in. He promised Stiles he wouldn’t and Derek takes his promises very seriously. This is an emergency, though, isn’t it? Stiles will understand.

Just as he is about to unlock the phone, it starts ringing and Derek’s heart flips painfully when a picture of grinning Stiles pops up on the screen.

“Oh thank fuck,” he breathes out, as he fumbles to hit the green button. “Stiles! Where are you? Are you okay?”

“This is Sheriff Stilinski. Can you come to the hospital, my son’s asking for you.”

*

Stiles checks himself in the mirror yet again, his heart pounding in his ears, and fidgets with his plaid shirt. It’s not very sexy but definitely very him. Theo never approved of his style and it gives him a petty satisfaction to show up like this.

Plus, it’s baggy enough to hide the phone strapped closely to his bicep using one of those jogging armbands that he found in a drawer, completely new, unopened, covered in a layer of dust. An unwanted present, most likely, and it’ll do fine for Stiles’ purposes.

He considered putting his phone normally to his back pocket as it picks up sound better that way but it’s also much more noticeable and easier for Theo to take away. Hidden underneath his shirt, it should be safe enough.

Stiles wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. Why is he so freaking nervous? It’ll be fine. They are meeting in a public space, in a park that’s bustling with joggers and moms with strollers at this time of the day, it’s not like he’s in any real danger.

With a heavy heart, Stiles unclasps his collar and reverently places it in a drawer. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” he whispers to the empty room but it does nothing to mitigate the feeling of wrongness. Derek will understand. Sure, he’ll be probably pissed and won’t approve but Stiles _needs_ to do this. Not only because it’s not fair and Theo should not get away but also for himself, to not feel so utterly powerless.

It’s not far to the park and Stiles uses the walk to settle down his nerves and think about what he’s going to say, milling over all the possible ways to get Theo to say enough out loud to incriminate himself without being too suspicious. Oh god, he hopes this’ll work.

One block before their meeting points, Stiles hides in one of the niches and takes out his phone. Hitting the record button, he double checks his battery is full and there’s enough storage space; he really can’t have technology betraying him now.

Theo is already there when he finally turns the corner, sitting on a bench, looking as unfazed as ever. He spots Stiles immediately and stands up. _No turning back now,_ Stiles thinks as the crosses the final distance, heart thundering so hard it makes his head spin.

“Hello Stiles,” Theo greets easily, flashing one of his charming smiles that sends chills down Stiles’ spine. “You’re late.”

The guilt with a pang of fear at the implied promise of punishment hits Stiles surprisingly hard and he mutters, “Sorry,” before he can stop himself, averting his eyes. Already he’s feeling unbalanced, slipping to the terrified mindset that used be his default just a few weeks ago. He bites the insides of his cheek hard, forcing his stupid submissive instincts away and forces himself to hold Theo’s gaze. This is harder than he thought.

If Theo’s surprised by Stiles’ newfound defiance, he doesn’t let on. “Oh come on, I missed you, darling,” he wraps him in a hug and Stiles goes rigid, his breathing picking up. It doesn’t last long, and yet it still leaves Stiles feeling dirty. The feeling only grows when Theo rests his hand on the nape of Stiles’ neck and steers him to sit on the bench he’s been sitting on just a moment ago.

“You look different,” Theo turns his scrutinizing stare at him. “Where have you been staying?”

“At a friend’s,” Stiles replies vaguely.

“Oh I see. He’s been feeding you quite well, I can tell,” he snickers and Stiles feels his cheeks heat up with shame. He knows he’s put on some weight, his bones not protruding quite so much anymore, but he didn’t think it was that noticeable. Self-consciously, Stiles tugs his shirt over his stomach.

“Don’t worry, though. We’ll go home and everything will get back to normal.”

The mention of going back jolts Stiles from the haze that started to settle in his mind back to present, and he straightens up. He needs to remember why he’s here. “Theo, what happened? What did you do?”

“Ah,” Theo waves his hand dismissively. “That’s nothing you need to worry your pretty head about.”

“You have no idea how scared I was,” Stiles says, the memories coming back. He was kneeling at the foot of the bed in the bedroom, Theo ordered him to wait there for him, as he had company over, when the shouting began. People running and screaming, Stiles was sure they were being robbed. Retrospectively, he knows he should have stayed put instead of running to the basement but he wasn’t thinking very clearly, dropping and exhausted as he was.

“I pointed a gun at them,” Stiles admits softly.

“Are you stupid? Why would you – wait, where did you get a gun?”

“I, uh, I took it from the nightstand drawer.”

“Oh, okay,” Theo sags a little. “At least that one was legal.”

“Wait, you have illegal guns at your home?” Stiles immediately latches onto the piece of information.

“Yeah, not in the nightstand table, though, I’m not stupid. What did you tell them?”

“Nothing! I didn’t know anything.”

“Right, good,” Theo nods, satisfied.

“They – the police – they asked me a lot of questions about – if I knew about the drugs. Is that what is? Are you selling drugs?”

“I told you that’s not for you to worry about,” Theo grunts, annoyed. “They’ve got nothing on me. I’ve sold a few hits to a couple of friends but they won’t snitch on me. It’s fine.”

“Okay. If you say so,” Stiles agrees, keeping eyes on the ground, too afraid his face would betray him right now. He just said it, hasn’t he? Stiles’ not sure if it’s enough but he can’t think of a way to ask for more.

Clearly mollified, Theo stands up, dragging Stiles with him. “Let’s go home then.”

“Wait, no,” Stiles manages to slip out of his hold and takes a steadying breath but it does nothing to soften the fear that’s making him nauseous.  “I’m with someone else now. I’m not going back with you,” he still says as clearly as he can manage, resisting the urge to take a few steps back, mindful of the phone hopefully still recording under his shirt.

Theo’s face turns dark with anger. The slap comes so quickly Stiles has no time to brace himself and stumbles back, almost landing on his ass. Immediately, his cheek starts to throb with pain. Theo grabs his hair so hard his eyes start to water and leans in close, hissing in his ear.

“You slut. Couldn’t stay without a dick for more than few days, huh? You’re mine. Don’t you ever forget it. I’m gonna lock you in the basement until you learn some fucking manners.”

“Hey! Leave him be!” A voice somewhere behind him shouts and Theo turns around, keeping a hold on Stiles’ hair.

“This is none of your concern, I’m just punishing my sub,” he says pleasantly and then turns to Stiles. “Tell this lovely lady that you’re fine and you want to go with me,” he orders, his voice hard and full of his Dom authority and Stiles wants to cry. He knows he can’t resist when Theo uses his Dom voice, he never could. He’s weak and pathetic. A failure. The drop that has been hovering over him for a while now comes crashing down with full force.

“Stiles,” Theo warns and Stiles looks up at the woman, watching him with concern. He’s shaking with the effort not to give in but everything is getting muddled and he’s having trouble thinking. The pain in his scalp is killing him, he feels like his hair is going to be ripped off at any moment. It’s easy, he just needs to do what Theo told him and it will go away.

Derek will be so disappointed, though.

The thought flashes through Stiles’ mind with surprising clarity and the memory of Derek’s face, the gentle crease of worry between his brows chases some of the haziness away.

“No, I don’t,” Stiles gets out finally. “Let go off me.”

Stiles would probably laugh at the stunned expression on Theo’s face if he weren’t still completely terrified and dropping. The next moment he struggles the put his feet under him, as he’s being dragged unceremoniously away. The woman’s screaming something but he can’t really hear over the panic pounding in his ears.

He struggles even harder when he recognizes Theo’s car parked on the side of the road. He can’t go back there, he can’t. While Theo’s distracted with fishing the car keys from his pocket, Stiles manages to break free of his hold with a sickening ripping sound as a whole fistful of hair comes lose. Losing his balance, he topples to the ground and bright pain explodes at the back of his skull as the curb connects with his head.

The world goes black for a moment and when he comes to, he’s still lying on the floor, unable to think past the pain in his head. With a shaky hand he touches the back of his head and his stomach turns when he feels the wetness in his hair, his hand coming back covered in bright red blood.

There is more shouting but nothing makes sense as times keep skipping on him and his eyes just won’t focus. Then for a moment he hallucinates his father crouching over him, calling his name, and Stiles thinks with a detached calmness that he’s dying before he lets darkness swallow him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry everyone (well, not really) but we're flying to Mallorca on Sunday. I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish the next chapter before we leave, probably not, and so the next chapter will be in about two week. Thank you for your patience! I promise everything will be fine.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yesterday, my younger fell asleep for about three hours, allowing me to write this one last chapter for you before I leave, so you have her to thank:) I know, you still have to wait for that Stilinski feels but I still feel much better leaving you like this. Enjoy!

Derek makes it to the hospital in record time. He only grunted, “On my way,” and flagged down the nearest taxi, absolutely not willing to waste any more time by getting to his car. The drive seemed to take forever, though, and it felt like they hit every red light on the way. As he thrummed his fingers nervously against the leather seat, he sort of regretted ending the call so quickly. He should have asked what happened. Now he has no idea if it’s a broken leg or internal bleeding.

He spots the Sheriff as soon as he barrels into the hospital lobby. He’s pacing the room, still impeccably dressed in his uniform, his face drawn.

“How is he?” Derek asks, breathless, without a word of greeting.

“Hale?” Stilinski looks up and narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What are you- Oh God. _You’re_ Derek.” Realization dawns on his face and there is a mixture of shock, hurt and disbelief but Derek can’t really be bothered to decipher all these battling emotions.

“Yeah. I know, alright. I know. Just, please – how is Stiles?”

After a tense beat of silence, Stilinski deflates with a loud sigh. “He has third degree concussion and about dozen stitches on his head but the doctor said he’ll be fine. They ran some scans and there is no internal bleeding or brain injury. He was confused, though, and had short-term memory loss. He kept asking _where’s Derek_ every five minutes, he always forgot he already asked. We didn’t know who he meant so I looked through his phone eventually. He only had two contacts there – Derek and Scott, so it wasn’t that hard to find you. But I didn’t know it was you.”

“Yeah,” Derek clears his throat uncomfortably but then just decides to bite the bullet. “We’ve been together for a month. He’s, well…. I’m his Dom.”

“I just can’t believe it. I haven’t heard from Stiles in almost a year and he’s been with _you_ the last month? You even commented his name!”

Derek does his best to ignore the hurt expression on Stilinski’s face. “In all due respect, sir, I didn’t know he was your son at first. And then he didn’t want me to tell you and that’s really not my choice to make.”

Stilinski’s face crumples and he sinks down in one of the chairs heavily, running his hand over his tired-looking face, and then asks, his voice hollow and resigned, “Still hates me, huh?”

“No, it’s not –” Derek cringes and then sighs. “Look, this really isn’t my story to tell and I know Stiles wouldn’t want me to talk about it without him. But you really need to talk to him. Please.”

“Alright,” the Sheriff sighs but not making a move to get up. “I just really missed him,” he whispers, more to himself than to Derek. It’s painful to watch and Derek wants to assure him, tell him Stiles loves him and missed him as well but he knows that wouldn’t be fair.

“Can I go see him now?”

“They gave him some mild sedative to help him rest. He should be up any time soon, though.”

“Oh,” the adrenaline slowly leaving his body, Derek collapses next to the Sheriff, taking what feels like the first proper breath ever since he found the apartment empty. “So what happened?” he says finally. Now that he knows Stiles is safe, million other questions pop up in his head.

“It was Raeken. We got a call from a witness that there’s some disturbance in the park. He tried to flee the scene but we caught him just few streets away.”

Derek clenches his teeth in anger. Fucking Raeken. He knew it. How the hell did he find Stiles, though?

“You need to listen to this,” Stilinski continues, handing him what Derek immediately recognizes is Stiles’ phone. “Not out loud, though, it’s still classified evidence,” he added as he fished a pair of earbuds from his pocket.

Derek’s confusion grows when he presses play and there is no video only dark red screen with some rustling as if someone started recording accidentally in their pocket. Then he hears it though, a voice, presumably Raeken. _Hello Stiles, you’re late._

Derek has to pause the video for a moment, staring at the phone in disbelief. It was no accident. Stiles met with him on purpose, recording the whole thing secretly. Oh Stiles, what the hell were you thinking. He doesn’t know if he’s more angry or impressed. Angry, definitely angry, but he can’t help but feel a bit of misplaced pride for his brave, _reckless_ boy.

The pride swells in his chest even more, making him a little teary eyed, when he hears Stiles say _no_ to Raeken. Towards the end there’s only unintelligible shouting and so he turns it off and returns the phone to the Sheriff.

“We have a pretty solid case here. Raeken’s in custody and he’s not getting out on bail again. We’re waiting for a warrant to search the house, hopefully in the morning.”

They are interrupted by a nurse who looks between them and then turns to Stiles’ dad. “He’s up. Do you want to see him?”

The Sheriff hesitates and then shakes his head. “I think you should go, Derek. He needs you.”

For a moment, Derek is overcome by a wave of fondness for the man. “Thank you,” he says honestly and then hurries in the direction the nurse indicates.

**

When Stiles wakes up again, he doesn’t dare open his eyes right away. His head is throbbing viciously but he’s lying on something soft. A bed, he recognizes, running his fingers on the cool smooth sheet covering him. He’s home. He doesn’t remember going to bed, Derek must have carried him after he fell asleep on the couch again.

“Derek?” He finally opens his eyes and blinks, trying to make sense of the dim room. That’s not… The monitor next to him starts to beep faster as memories come back. Oh shit. He scrambles up in panic but is held back by a tube running from his hand and something clipped to his index finger.

“Derek!” he shouts more loudly and finally the door opens. A middle aged woman in scrubs hurries to him, taking his hand calmingly and gently nudging him bed to bed.

“It’s okay, Stiles. You’re in a hospital. You hid your head pretty bad. Do you remember?”

Stiles tries to think but it only makes him feel his head is going to split in two. He remembers… Theo. They met sat on a bench and… oh, no. His phone. He pats his arms but it’s gone, and he’s dressed in a hospital gown.

“Where’s my phone?”

“Don’t worry, it’s safe.”

Stiles sags and closes his eyes, the pain overcoming him again. Thank god the blinds are down but it still feels like too much light is piercing straight into his brain.

“Do you need more painkillers?”

“Yes, please,” Stiles whispers and the nurse just nods. She’s back a moment later with two pills in a small plastic cup and a glass of water. Right behind her is Derek, standing uncertainly at the door, and Stiles heart skips.

Once the nurse leaves, the room sinks into a heavy silence. Derek sits on the edge of the bed, gently taking Stiles’ hand and watches him with an inscrutable expression, his mouth set in a tight line.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Stiles blurts out of the sudden, his eyes filling with unwanted tears. “I’m sorry. Please, Derek,” he begs, not caring about how desperate it makes him look. It only now occurs to Stiles just how angry he’d make Derek. He was so single-mindedly focused on making Theo pay that he didn’t think what a breach of Derek’s trust it was.

Cold dread starts to pool in his stomach. He can’t lose Derek. Derek’s the best thing that’s ever happened in Stiles’ life and even though he always sort of suspected it was too good to be true and Derek deserves much better, he’s not ready for it to end.

The lines around Derek’s eyes soften a little and he stands up. Walking around the bed, he gestures at Stiles to make place and then squeezes himself next to Stiles, throwing his arm around Stiles’ shoulder gingerly, as if afraid to jostle Stiles too much.

“Stiles,” he sighs. “I _am_ mad but that doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you. Nothing ever could. I still love you.”

“You do?” Stiles looks up, startled. This is not what he expected to hear and it takes a while to register, his brain still a little muddled. When it does though, new tears start to prickle his eyes and he sniffles in Derek’s shirt. “I love you, too.”

Derek holds him closer, running a soothing hand up and down his back. “You know you’re still getting punished though, right?” Derek adds when Stiles’ tears finally run dry and Stiles feels a smile tug at his lips.

“Yeah, I kinda deserve this one, huh?”

“Seriously, Stiles. Why didn’t tell me?”

“I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

“No, you _assumed_ I wouldn’t approve. We could have talked about it. I might have agreed – with precautions! Undercover cops watching you, making sure you’re safe, with proper equipment, and so on.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, feeling even more stupid.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Derek says and there’s unfamiliar vulnerability in his voice. “I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says again miserably.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. Now I only want you to rest and get better. Don’t worry about Raeken. Let us handle it.”

They stay like this for a long time and Stiles never wants to move, safely cocooned in Derek’s arm, safe and warm. Derek disentangles one of his hands and gently places it on the back of Stiles’ head with a look of utmost concentration. The next moment the pain fades away as black lines run up Derek’s arm and Stiles sags in relief. Suddenly his eyes are getting heavy and Derek nudges him softly.

“Your dad is waiting outside. Can you talk to him?”

His dad. He dreamed about his dead crouching above him. Only it wasn’t a dream, was it? It was really him. He saw him, lying on the ground, bleeding. Pathetic.

“No,” Stiles sits up, feeling the panic return. “I can’t, Derek. I’m not... I’m not ready.”  This is not the reunion he had in mind. He wanted to make his dad proud, to prove himself worth of his love, show how good he’s doing. And he’s not any of these things. How can he ever look his dad in the eyes now? After everything that’s happened. Everything he’s done.

“Stiles, please,” Derek pleads. “The man thinks you hate his guts. Please just talk to him.”

“I’m just so tired,” Stiles says honestly, the weight of the day he’s had crushing down on him hard.

“I know, baby. I’ll tell him to keep it short. Five minutes, that’s all I ask.”

“Alright,” Stiles sighs, internally steeling himself. “Send him in.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little chapter to ease myself back in after vacation, enjoy the fluff:)

Derek walks out of the room and Stiles sits up, smoothing the blanket around him, running his fingers through his hair gingerly, even though it doesn’t do much to make him look more presentable.

The beeping of the monitor beside his bed picks up in pace as his nerves take the best of him, his blood pounding painfully in his temples. This was a bad idea. He hasn’t even had time to write down everything he wanted to say to his dad. He should have told Derek he doesn’t feel well, Stiles is pretty sure Derek wouldn’t push him if he insisted…

He’s half out of the bed to find Derek and tell him he’s changed his mind when the door opens and his dad slips in, closing it softly behind him. Stiles’ heart skyrockets at the sight of him and his stomach twists painfully.

It’s really him, in the flesh, not just the picture of him he’s been carrying in his head that has already started to soften round the edges, and he’s just a few feet away. He’s in his uniform but still looks a little disheveled, his hair rumpled, his shirt wrinkled and creased from when he clearly struggled to iron it himself, and familiar guilt stirs in Stiles’ stomach.

He has the same the pinched look of worry on his face that he would wear when Stiles was sick as a kid, standing over his bed with his hand on Stiles’ forehead. He walks closer uncertainly and perches himself on the edge of the chair next to his bed, giving Stiles a little smile that makes familiar wrinkles appear around his eyes.

“Hi, kiddo,” he says as if nothing was wrong, as if they only saw each other yesterday, and that’s all it takes to make Stiles’ throat constrict. All of sudden, Stiles feels like the little kid again, craving the comfort of his dad’s embrace. He still is his kid, isn’t he? No matter how old, despite everything that’s happened, he will always be his dad and nobody can take that away from him.

Stiles doesn’t even try to form words, certain he wouldn’t be able to squeeze a sound through his closed up throat. Instead, he leans closer the tiniest bit, his hands twitching by his side, praying his dad will get the hint because he knows he’s not brave enough to ask for what he so desperately needs right now.

The next moment, he’s being crushed in a hug so tight he can barely breathe, his dad running a soothing hand up and down his back. Finally, Stiles makes his body unfreeze and wraps his arms around his dad’s solid form, taking in the familiar scent, the same cologne Stiles always bought him for Christmas, mixed with the same cheap lavender detergent, and he doesn’t even try to stop the tears.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against his uniform shirt. “I didn’t…. I couldn’t-“

“Shh, none of that. It’s okay, Stiles. We don’t have to talk right now. I’m just happy to have you back.”

Stiles nods, sniffing, and just holds onto him, while tears roll freely down his cheeks. It doesn’t last long though, because as the adrenaline leaves him, the exhaustion returns in full force and Stiles feels himself go limp, his eyelids once again impossibly heavy.

“I’ll let you get some rest,” his dad presses a kiss on top of his head and gets up. “Do you want me to call Derek back?”

“Yes, please,” he rasps, already feeling cold from the loss of contact.

His dad hesitates for a moment, shuffling on his feet. “You’re safe with Derek, right? He’s… good to you, isn’t he?” he asks finally in a strained voice.

“What? Yes! Yes, he is!”

“Alright, just making sure,” he raises his hand placatingly. “I’ll see you soon. Rest, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. I won’t let you disappear again,” he murmurs, perhaps more to himself than Stiles.

“Dad?” Stiles remembers to call just as he is about to leave the room again and he stops with his hand already on the handle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, kiddo.”

Stiles sags back on the pillow, feeling a small smile tug at his lips. He’s said it. Twice today, even, and it felt just as right the second time. He doesn’t feel anxious anymore when his dad leaves the room. He said what he needed to – for the longest time he thought he needed to tell his dad he’s sorry and make him believe it but it turns out all he _really_ longed to say all this time was that he loved him. The rest can wait.

Derek’s back with the nurse in tow and he’s looking so pleased and proud it’s hard not to grin back at him. He doesn’t ask about how it went for which Stiles is grateful as he’s ready to sleep for at least three days.

“Alright, so, they want to keep you here overnight for observation because of the concussion.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods even as fear squirms its way into his belly. The idea of waking up in the middle of the night, alone in a strange bed, without Derek’s warmth or even the comforting weight of his collar, makes cold sweat break out on his skin.

“I’ll stay the night with you.”

At that, the nurse makes a little sound of protest and Derek turns his scowl at her. “I’ll sleep in the chair, I don’t mind.” He crosses his arms over his chest and plants his feet, his whole posture screaming _don’t even try making me leave_ and the nurse gives in with only a slightly exasperated sigh.

“Thank you,” Stiles says. He knows he should probably insist he’s fine and Derek should go home and get some real rest in his bed but Derek wouldn’t even have to be a werewolf to tell that’s a lie and see how relieved Stiles is to not be alone.

“I’m doing it for me just as much as for you. I couldn’t – you know, leave you here.”

Before Stiles can even suggest that they can both probably fit on the bed, the nurse is back, rolling an empty bed in front of her.

“You’re lucky we’re not at full capacity right now. If I need it, you’re back in the chair, are we clear?”

“Absolutely. Thank you.”

She then lowers the side rails and pushes both beds together, creating one king size hospital bed.

Derek toes off his shoes and curls next to Stiles. It takes a bit of shuffling and maneuvering before Stiles can find a comfortable position, given his bandaged head and the monitor still attached to his finger but he manages.

His head is spinning and Stiles is not sure if it’s caused by the concussion or everything that happened. He feels like he might burst at any moment and there’s so much he wants tell Derek – about his dad and how grateful he is. And sorry. And also tired and scared but also excited and…

Before he can pinpoint one coherent thought, the bed seems to swallow him and he falls into an exhausted sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

The next morning passes in a blur. Stiles is still pleasantly floaty from Derek’s pain drain and can’t be really bothered to pay too much attention. A doctor comes in, shining in his eyes, asking a million and one questions and the same nurse as yesterday brings him some kind of tasteless mushy breakfast. Derek just scrunches his nose and immediately disappears from the room, coming back a minute later with two roastbeef sandwiches from the hospital cafeteria.

It’s close to noon when he’s finally discharged. His clothes are returned to him, neatly folded, and his phone is sitting on top of the small pile.

“Can I – do I get the phone back?” Stiles asks hopefully.

“Of course. We have downloaded the video file already.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Stiles quickly slips the phone back into his pocket. He was half-convinced his phone privileges were going to be taken away as a punishment for his fuck up and is irrationally glad to have it back. It would be only fitting. But it does make sense, Derek wouldn’t want to leave Stiles without a way to contact him. Maybe he’ll get his laptop confiscated. Or Derek might just paddle his ass red. Fearful anticipation stirs in his stomach. He really wishes he could get his punishment over with but judging from the way Derek looks at him as if he may break at any moment, it’s probably not going to happen any time soon.

His dad is waiting in the lobby as they’re on their way out of the hospital and Stiles’ stomach does a little happy flip at the sight of him. He dives in for another hug without thinking too much before he can lose his courage and his dad holds him just as tight as yesterday.

“You look better,” he comments with a smile when he finally pulls back.

 “Thanks. I feel better.” It’s the truth, too – his head only swims a little when he moves too fast and the pain is nothing but a dull ache in the distance.

“I’m glad to hear that. I just wanted to see you before you leave but I have to go back to work. But you still have my number, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles says, pulling out his phone, already opening a new message. He doesn’t _have_ the number but he remembers it. It’s the only number he has ever remember and he doesn’t think he could ever forget it.

His dad’s phone pings in his pocket just a second after he hits send. “Thank you,” he smiles. “Take it easy, okay?”

There’s that worried look again and Stiles huffs. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll- I’ll see you soon?”

“Absolutely. Just text me when and where.”

“Alright.” Stiles shifts on his feet, knowing he’s drawing it out and then grits his teeth as he forces his body to move and walk towards Derek, who’s waiting for him patiently a polite distance away. This is not a goodbye, they’ll see other soon, he repeats to himself but his brain is having a hard time believing him.

 

Their apartment welcomes them with a pleasant quiet, a stark contrast to the never-ceasing noise of the hospital. Stiles trails after Derek, biting his lip nervously, trying to decide whether he’s allowed to ask for his collar back or if he should just wait until Derek decides he’s worthy of wearing it again.

“Alright, where did you put it?” Derek asks, his eyes skimming briefly over Stiles’ bare neck, and Stiles blinks in surprise, his heart picking up.

“I, uh – the bedroom. Top drawer.”

Derek nods and heads in the direction of the bedroom. Stiles stays completely frozen on the spot, waiting for Derek to return. This still doesn’t have to mean that he’s getting it back, Stiles tries to reign back his excitement, but it’s no use. Fortunately, Derek is back a moment later, the slim black leather collar dangling from his hand, and he doesn’t miss a beat or hesitate as he starts to fasten it back around Stiles neck, in slow, careful movements.

“Thank you,” he says, wishing he could explain just how much it means to him. Now more than ever, he needs the feeling of security it provides, a constant reminder that he’s still Derek’s, that Derek still wants him.

They laze the rest of the day away. Stiles tries to half-heartedly protest that Derek shouldn’t miss work because of him but even he knows it’s futile and so he gives in and just enjoys being coddled. They go on as if nothing happened; Derek cooks them a hearty meal and they watch a movie cuddling on the couch, but underneath his skin, Stiles feels the tension build every minute they’re ignoring the elephant in the room.

Derek loves him, he knows that, but he hasn’t forgiven him. And how could he – Stiles doesn’t deserve it. Not yet anyway. Derek’s been nothing but understanding and done nothing but try to help Stiles – and what did he do to repay his kindness? Sneak out behind his back to meet with his ex, made him worried sick, inconvenienced him in about ten different ways, he’s been nothing but a burden and nuisance. And what if Derek decides it’s not worth the effort to even punish him because he’s too much of a screw-up…

“Stiles,” Derek sternly interrupts his spiraling thoughts. Stiles looks up guiltily, knowing he must be stinking up the place with his anxiety, and Derek’s face softens. “Look, I’m not putting off your punishment to let you stew or anything. I just think it’s still a bit… raw, you know? Let’s enjoy the evening, have a good night sleep and we will talk in the morning, I promise.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods gratefully. Having an exact time does put his nerves at ease. He still wishes he could just get this over with even though he sees what Derek means. He feels like he’s been stretched thin, wrung out and turned inside out.

It still takes a considerable effort to uncurl his stiff muscles and force all these thoughts away but eventually, sitting on the familiar spot on the couch, with Derek’s arms around him, precarious calm settles in his mind. He doesn’t quite float but it still feels nice. Safe. Familiar.

In the evening, as he’s getting ready for bed and putting his phone on the charger, he winces at the number of notifications. There are several missed calls and messages from Scott but he ignores them for now, all his attention drawn to a new unopened message from his dad.

He holds his breath as he opens it and then grins stupidly at the three words. _Good night, Stiles,_ it only says but it still makes him feel all warm on the inside. For a moment he was afraid it would be some long emotional text about how much Stiles has hurt him. He’s not ready to deal with that but apparently, neither is his dad.

Stiles quickly types his reply and joins Derek in bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

 

In the warm morning sun, everything does feel more settled. It’s like the wounds, both physical and emotional, have started to heal, scab over, and the pain is replaced by only a slightly irritating itch.

Derek places two cups off steaming coffee in front of them on the table and Stiles takes a deep steadying breath, forcing his eyes to meet Derek’s.

“Alright,” he sighs, sounding as determined as Stiles feels. “You know there’s quite a lot we need to talk about. But first – I called the therapist and she was able to squeeze you in for tomorrow. Do you – is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, even though his stomach clenches in fear. He is perfectly aware that Derek’s not going to budge on this one. And it did sound like a good idea back in the secluded safety of the cabin. Now that it’s here, he doesn’t want to go.

“Give her a chance. If you don’t like her, we’ll find somebody else. And if you don’t like them, we’ll keep looking. Until you find the best person to help you, okay?”

Stiles nods again and swallows his protests that the best person to help is Derek. He can only imagine what that responsibility must feel like and doesn’t blame him for wanting someone else to deal with the mess in Stiles’ head.

“That’s settled then. Now – do you know why I need to punish you?”

Stiles breathes out through his nose. He knew it was too much to hope for that Derek would just tell him his punishment and then everything would go back to normal. This is not how Derek does things, Stiles knows that by now. Still, he hates having to spell out his mistakes and pick up the most serious one.

“Because I sneaked out to meet with my ex behind your back,” Stiles settles for finally.

Derek actually gapes at him for a moment and Stiles feels his frustration grow. He knew why he hates these questions. How did he say the wrong thing again?

“No, Stiles! That is really not the point here. This is exactly why you need to learn this lesson. Okay, let’s try it again. Why didn’t you tell me that you’re meeting him?”

“Because you wouldn’t approve,” Stiles answers quickly.

“That’s the first red flag right here, but okay. Why wouldn’t I approve?”

“Because…” This time Stiles actually takes the time to think about it. There are many reasons to choose from but they don’t feel right. It clicks, then, and Stiles feels like an idiot. “Because it was dangerous. I could have gotten hurt. I did get hurt.”

“Yes, exactly! And you damn well knew it, that’s why you didn’t tell me. I’m not trying to control your every moment or tell you who you can or can’t see,” Derek says almost pleadingly.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, stupid tears once again prickling his eyes.

“But you can’t go putting yourself in danger like this. How can I protect you when- “ Derek huffs in frustration and then takes a moment to calm down again. “I need you to be safe. I love you and don’t want you to get hurt. So tell me – what is the lesson?”

“I won’t do anything dangerous, reckless or stupid behind your back.”

“Yes!” Derek slams his hand on the table and Stiles slumps in relief. At least he got that right. “You see why this is important? Why I really want you to remember this?”

Stiles is nodding eagerly, way too ready to get the talking part over with. Derek is watching him with a thoughtful expression and Stiles tries not to fidget, waiting to hear the verdict.

“Somehow I don’t think a good spanking will do the job here,” he says finally as he gets up from the table and retrieves something from one of the drawers. “I really think you need more time for this lesson to really sink in.”

Stiles feels himself deflate. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy as a quick spanking. Still, he knows he deserves this and wants to show Derek that he can be good. He wants to deserve Derek’s forgiveness.

Derek sets a rather small box on the table and Stiles curiously lifts the cover and peeks inside. It only takes him a second the recognize the metal object inside and his cheeks immediately turn red with a weird mix of humiliation and, surprisingly, arousal.

He takes the cock cage out of the box, turning it in his hand. It’s heavier than he imagined, made of sturdy looking rings and includes a padlock on top.

“How long?” he asks finally, when he’s confident enough his voice won’t break.

“A week. That should be enough time for you to contemplate your mistakes,” Derek smiles but turns serious the next moment. “The final decision is always yours, though. If you really don’t want to do this, I’ll think of something else. Or if it gets too much, you can safeword at any time and it’ll be fine.”

Stiles nods, considering. He knows that. At least he thinks he knows that but it’s always reassuring to hear Derek say it out loud. And week isn’t that long, is it? He can go a week without coming, he’s not a horny teenager anymore. And to be honest, there is something enticing about the idea of giving up his pleasure to Derek, for him to control and decide.

He takes a deep breath. Now is probably not a good time to pop a boner.

“Okay. Yes. I’ll do it.”

This earns him another, undeniably proud, smile, and Derek tugs Stiles up, leading him to the bedroom, where he pulls down Stiles’ pants without a further word and pushes him on the bed.

Derek brushes his fingers over Stiles’ shaft and he immediately starts to grow hard. There’s no stopping it and Stiles frown at his own erection accusingly.

“It’s okay. I’ll make you feel good. You deserve it. You made some poor decisions but I’m still proud of you. My smart, brave boy.”

Stiles feels he could come from just the words alone and when Derek wraps his lips around him, pleasure explodes behind his closed eyes. His toes curl up and he clutches the sheets desperately, trying to get himself under control. He still comes in Derek’s mouth in record time and Derek swallows it all, leaving him completely spent.

As his dick softens, Derek deftly pulls it through the rings of the cage and closes the lock with a menacing click. Stiles looks at his locked dick disdainfully; the weight of the cage tugs at his balls and is hard to ignore – which, presumably, is the point – but otherwise it’s not painful or really uncomfortable. Not yet, anyway.

“I’ll take it off once a day so that you can get yourself cleaned properly. Otherwise it stays on. I’ll keep one key and the other one will be on this shelf. For absolute emergencies only,” Derek emphasizes, glancing warningly at Stiles, who nods hurriedly.

Stiles redresses, changing into the loosest pair of pants he owns and checks himself in the mirror, tugging at the crotch self-consciously.

“It’s fine, Stiles, no one can tell,” Derek reassures him but Stiles still has to clench his hands into fists to fight the urge to cover his bulge. He hates it. But he also kind of loves it and that makes him hate it even more. It’s going to be a long week.

“Now, come on,” Derek says cheerfully, a satisfied grin on his face. “We’re going out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thoughts?:) As always, I'm looking forward to hearing from you. I have no idea what I'm doing here, but that's old news. I hope you're enjoying the summer!


	28. Chapter 28

The walk seems to do Stiles good. After the first ten minutes, he stops looking around self-consciously and not-so-discreetly tugging at his pants and relaxes. The day passes pleasantly and in the evening, Derek unlocks Stiles as promised so that he can take a shower.

Stiles doesn’t look too bothered as Derek puts the cage back on, only watches him patiently with a slightly blown eyes.

The following morning, however, Derek is woken up at early dawn by the sound of rustling sheets next to him, as Stiles squirms restlessly, accompanied by soft frustrated huffs. The smell of arousal is unmistakable and an amused smile spreads on Derek’s face, all sleep forgotten.

“Are you alright, baby?”

“Sure,” Stiles grumbles and hides his face in the pillow.

“That morning wood is not going to happen, huh?” Derek is enjoying Stiles’ plight a bit too much, to be honest but he can’t help himself. He knows it’s supposed to be a punishment and Stiles does deserve to suffer a little, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. Well, for Derek at least.

He runs a soothing hand up and down Stiles’ back, carefully avoiding going any lower, enjoying the way Stiles’ muscles relax under his palm and he leans into the touch.

“I can believe this is only day two. It’s like – I don’t normally think about it – getting hard in the morning – until I can’t. This sucks.”

“Well, good. It wouldn’t be a punishment if you enjoyed yourself too much,” Derek teases. His attention is immediately drawn to Stiles’ pouting mouth and he runs his thumb along his bottom lip. Stiles’ eyes grow a little wide but he parts his lips and sucks on Derek’s finger.

“I’m not much into solidarity celibacy, though,” Derek rubs his own erection against Stiles’ thigh pointedly and Stiles doesn’t have to be told twice. He lets go of Derek’s finger with a wet plop and goes down on Derek, sucking him enthusiastically. He only pauses once, resting his forehead on Derek’s thigh as he pants, taking a moment to compose himself as his dick is clearly straining in the cage, uselessly trying to get hard. It only serves to increase Derek’s arousal and it doesn’t take him much longer to finish.

Afterwards, as they are snuggling in bed, both too lazy to get up and start the day, the smell of sex, contentment and just the slightest bit of frustration filling his nostrils, Derek thinks about how incredibly lucky he got. He doesn’t know what the hell he did to deserve someone so perfect as Stiles, who looks at him as if he hung the moon, but he only hopes he won’t let him down. He doesn’t want to let down anyone ever again.

Shaking himself from his morose thoughts, he slaps Stiles’ ass gently, jerking him from his slumber. “Now, go take a cold shower. You don’t want to be late for your appointment.”

 

Derek’s glad he was able to get Stiles an appointment this early in the day, otherwise Stiles would probably vibrate out of his skin with all his nervous energy. Still, his knees bounce up and down in the car all the way to the Dr Morrison’s office. Eventually, Derek just places a steadying hand on his leg, squeezing reassuringly.

“You’ll be fine. It’s just talking, okay?”

Stiles nods but doesn’t look any calmer and Derek realizes how hypocritical he’s being right now. He’s heard it before, from Laura who basically dragged him to therapy after Kate happened and Derek cringes at the memory. _Just talk to her_ , she told him back then, as if that made it any less scary. Talking was exactly what Derek didn’t want to do and he remembers being pretty nasty to Laura in his attempt to get her to leave him alone.

He’s incredibly grateful she didn’t give up on him, though.

They barely have time to sit down in the waiting room and waft through the stack of mental health magazines before Dr Morrison comes through the door. She looks just as Derek remembers her, a petite woman with rich brown hair flowing around her round face.

“Stiles, it’s nice to meet you. And Derek, great to see you too. How have you been?”

The smile on her face is catchy and Derek feels mirroring it with his own immediately. It’s impossible to feel too nervous around her and Stiles, half-hiding behind Derek’s back, relaxes visibly as well.

“Will you wait here?” Stiles asks, glancing towards the chairs as he is about to leave the waiting room.

“No, there’s a coffee shop just around the corner, but I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks,” Stiles nods with a sigh of relief and Derek knows he’s glad he won’t have to worry about whether Derek’s eavesdropping from behind the closed doors.

The forty-five minutes go by quickly. Derek sips at his coffee and gives Laura a call. They talk about nothing in particular, as Derek’s unable to summon the words to tell her how happy he is to have her but he thinks she gets it anyway.

Stiles is quiet, his face unreadable, when he picks him up and he follows Derek wordlessly into the car.

“So how was it?” Derek asks, once they’re both in their seats, unable to curb his curiosity.

“It was – I don’t know. Okay, I guess,” he shrugs and then goes quiet again for a long time, just looking out of the window as they drive home. “I just – I don’t feel any different. We talked about stuff but nothing all that important or hard. How is that supposed to fix me? And she wants to see me twice a week!”

“Okay, first off,” Derek raises a hand, glancing sideways where Stiles is slouched in his seat. “You don’t need to be _fixed_. The therapy is to help you come to terms with all that happened and help you feel better. And second, these things take time. Of course nothing major is going to be discussed in the first session.”

Stiles doesn’t answer and Derek lets the silence linger on. He looks tired, tired of talking perhaps, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and there is a pinched look on his face. For a moment, Derek gets an uneasy feeling that he’s pushing him too hard. He is still recovering, the stitches aren’t even out yet. And on top of that he’s being punished. Derek’s eyes inevitably land on Stiles’ crotch; of course, he wouldn’t be able to tell anything was out of the ordinary if he didn’t know, but Stiles is still resting his hands over his dick, maybe trying to hide it subconsciously.

But would it be any better if he gave him more time? If he moved the appointment to next month and postponed the punishment until Stiles is all the way healed, would it do Stiles any favors or would it just feed his anxiety and abandonment issues?

Who knows. But he knows Stiles looks up to him and so he just needs to keep on pretending that he knows what he’s doing. For Stiles’ sake.

When they get home, Derek herds Stiles straight into the bedroom.

“You’re taking a nap,” he states and Stiles doesn’t even protest, just lets himself be tugged in, looking up at Derek from half-lidded eyes.

“Stay?” Stiles asks in a barely audible whisper. It brings Derek back to the Stiles’ first night here, when he barely knew Stiles at all and yet still felt inexplicably drawn to him. It feels like a lifetime ago but the way he physically aches to touch Stiles hasn’t changed a bit.

Derek spoons him from behind, throwing and arm over Stiles curled on his side, and waits for Stiles to fall asleep. It takes barely a minute and once his breathing is deep and even, Derek quietly slips out of the room.

In the meantime, while Stiles sleeps, Derek calls to work and checks up on their ongoing cases but it seems his teams has everything firmly under control. Raeken, Erica reassures him, is locked up without any bail options and they’re putting together a case.

Not that long ago, Derek would hate not being a part of such a case, would stay in the office long after everyone else has gone, working. Now being here with Stiles, for Stiles, is ten times as satisfying as catching any drug lord.

Stiles looks considerably better when he emerges back from the bedroom. His smile is back and he stretches lavishly as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“What have I missed?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just catching up on some work.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles plops down into a chair next to Derek, hesitating, but doesn’t ask.

“You know he’s in jail, right?” Derek says anyway. “He’s not getting out any time soon, either.”

“Yeah, I know, but – ”

Stiles jerks in surprise as his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket and he quickly pulls it out, almost dropping it in the process. His eyes grow a little wide when he looks at the screen and he gestures towards the bedroom.

“I, uh. I’m gonna take that.”

Even though he closes the door behind him, Derek can still hear his excited _hi dad!,_ and so he turns on the TV with the volume all the way up to give him some privacy. Not that he still couldn’t hear him if he focused but he intentionally keeps his mind on whatever nature documentary is currently playing.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to come back, his cheeks flushed a little, still wringing his phone nervously in his hands.

“Everything okay?” Derek asks when the silence stretches uncharacteristically long.

“Yeah. Fine. Um, it’s just that – I, uh. I might have invited my dad for dinner tomorrow?”

“Oh, okay. That’s great.”

 “I’m sorry, you don’t have to – Wait, it is?” he asks tentatively, the tension draining from his posture.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Stiles just shrugs and doesn’t say anything but doesn’t seem all that convinced, fidgeting unhappily with the phone in his hand, and Derek’s heart suddenly aches just imagining all the reasons that must be going through his head right now. He turns off the TV and pulls Stiles in for a hug. He goes pliantly, even if there is a slightly confused look on his face, and sighs contently, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder.

“What was that for?” Stiles mutters but doesn’t move away.

“I don’t need a reason to hug you, do I? But I need you to tell me what your dad’s favorite meal is.”

“Oh, definitely something greasy and fatty. With lots of meat. Oh, you two will get along just fine,” Stiles jokes, his excitement back in full force.

 

The rest of the day is spent in companionable silence. Stiles checks his email and works a little. Soon, however, he starts to rub at his temples and his eyebrows are drawn in a pained expression. Derek has to physically shoo him away from his computer to the couch, where he drains his pain and puts on some mindless comedy.

In the evening, as they’re getting ready for bed, Derek retrieves the key and unlocks Stiles. It’s almost like a ritual by now and Derek takes his time, checking that there is absolutely no damage from wearing the cage, enjoying the way Stiles’ breath quickens from even the barest touch.

“Take a shower, I’ll wait outside.”

Stiles nods and slips into the shower cubicle, followed by the sound of streaming water. Derek has barely time to tidy up a little and wash the chastity device before the water stops and Stiles calls out, “Derek?”

When he comes back to the bathroom, he finds Stiles standing naked on the shower mat, water freely rolling down his body, his dick hard and straining against his belly.

“I didn’t – I can’t help it. It won’t go down,” Stiles complains, gesturing towards his crotch.

“Hm,” Derek comes closer, considering. “Do you need help with that?”

Misplaced hope flickers in Stiles gaze as he looks up at Derek and nods. “Yes, please.”

“Alright, wait here.”

Quickly, he retrieves a bag of frozen peas from the freezer.

“Whoa – wait!” Stiles takes a few startled steps back when he sees what Derek’s holding and Derek can’t help but laugh at the way his eyes grow wide.

“What – you had something else in mind?”

“Well, yeah,” Stiles admits reluctantly.

“You know we said a week. Unless you are ready to safeword, you’re going to have to do something about this,” he explains patiently, looking down pointedly. Stiles turns a puppy face at Derek, who only kisses his pouting lips. “Now, frozen peas or a cold shower?”

“Alright, you do it,” Stiles sighs resignedly and leans back against the counter, grabbing its edges for purchase.

Derek wraps the peas in a small towel and presses it against Stiles’ erection without further warning.

“Oh, fuuuck,” Stiles grits through his clenched teeth but it doesn’t take long for his hard-on to finally flag. Once he’s soft, Derek quickly puts the cage back on, locking it in place.

“There. Such a good boy,” he murmurs.

Stiles’ disgruntled expression is replaced immediately by a proud little smile and Derek knows that in the end, it will all be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek definitely has a thing for cock cages:)
> 
> And by the way, we're going on another vacation next week, this time with the kids' grandparents. I'm not sure if I'll be able to post another chapter before leaving but if you don't hear from me for a while, rest assured that I'm warming my tired body in the hot sands of Italy and please be patient:) Thank you all!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter! It's basically just porn, so enjoy:)

“Are you up for some teasing?” Derek asks all of the sudden as they’re snuggling in the bed in the morning. Stiles, who has been trying his hardest not to let his thoughts stray to his poor locked dick, rises on his elbow to look at Derek.

“What exactly do you mean?” he asks suspiciously, even as excitement starts to stir in his guts.

“I mean,” Derek says softly, “that I would tie you to bed and tease you. Then I’d ice you until you’re soft and lock you up again.”

Stiles groans, hiding his face in his hands. Being tied down and having Derek hands on him sounds like heaven right now, even though he is suspicious that he’ll come to regret it pretty soon. Still, he wants Derek’s attention on him, craves the feeling of being at his mercy and yet knowing he’s completely safe.

“Yes. Alright,” Stiles nods, determined, and Derek rewards him with a pleased grin. Gracefully, he slips out of the bed and rummages through the closet, while Stiles undresses, sitting in the middle of the bed, the cage looking even more obscene now that he’s completely naked.

Derek places brand new coils of rope on the bed and Stiles feels a familiar pang of guilt.

“Hopefully, these will last longer,” he jokes. Derek doesn’t laugh, though; he grabs Stiles’ chin, tilting his head to look at him.

“No ropes are more important than you. Ever. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Stiles nods earnestly and Derek lets him go, satisfied. He pushes him to lie down, spreading Stiles’ arms and legs spread-eagle, and starts to quickly tie him to the bed.

Stiles lets out a chuckle and Derek raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“Nothing, I just imagined your reaction if I told you I didn’t safeword because I didn’t want to destroy the ropes again.”

Derek shakes his head, amused. “Well, I’m glad you find that funny.”

It occurs to Stiles then that he’s glad, too. Not that long ago, this wouldn’t be an absurd scenario Stiles made up for his amusement but a harsh reality. Stiles knew Theo prized his gear more than Stiles’ comfort; after all, Stiles can just tough it out, right? And that shit’s expensive. Stiles can hear it clearly in his head and for what feels like the first time, it doesn’t make him terrified. It makes him want to punch that stupid face of his.

“Are you alright?” Derek hesitates, already done with his hands, about to moves to his legs.

“Yeah,” Stiles smiles. “I’m great, actually.”

All thoughts of Theo promptly leave his head as Derek finishes tying him up and unlocks the cage. He lowers his face closer and just Derek’s breath on his dick makes him squirm. For a moment, Stiles thinks Derek might start to suck him off, afraid he’ll come on the spot if he does, but then he moves up, pressing kisses all over his torso, making his stomach flutter.

“Just so that we’re clear,” Derek says, running his hands up and down Stiles’ thigh, no going anywhere near his dick, which is already rock hard. “If you say stop, I’m going to stop touching you so that you don’t come. But if you want this whole teasing to stop, you’re gonna have to use your safeword. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand,” Stiles confirms and Derek kisses him on the lips, deep and hungry, making Stiles’ head spin. When he pulls away, Stiles sighs and closes his eyes, giving a few tugs at the ropes. He’s not going anywhere, though, as tied as he is, and a familiar warmth pools in his guts. _I’m yours_ , he thinks. _All yours._

Derek runs his hands all over Stiles’ body, from the soles of his feet to the tips of fingers. It’s like a massage and Stiles just hums contently as his minds empties pleasantly and he feels he could sink right into the mattress.

He’s brought back by the clicking sound of a bottle of lube being opened. A moment later, Derek’s slick hand rubs the head of Stiles’ dick and his toes curl with pleasure so intense he forgets to breathe. It only takes a few strokes for Derek to bring Stiles to the brink of orgasm and he promptly takes his hand away, chuckling as Stiles’ dick jerks desperately and Stiles groans in protest.

Stiles already feels as if he ran ten miles, panting as he slowly retreats from the edge. Derek sits on his heels next to him, waiting patiently, scraping his fingernail against Stiles’ inner thighs.

When he finally gets his heart to slow down a little, Derek returns his hand, just the barest touch of his finger that is nowhere enough and leaves Stiles desperately chasing the touch. Derek takes his time, though, letting Stiles settle, before he gives him what he wants, stroking him fast and hard and then stops just as he is about to explode.

By the time Derek brings him to the edge for the third time, Stiles is hanging onto the ropes for his dear life. When Derek lets go of his angry red dick just when is _so close_ , Stiles thrashes in his bonds, cursing loudly. He needs to come right _now_ or he will fucking die.

Derek puts a steadying hand in the middle of his chest and Stiles focuses on the point of contact, feels himself calm down, his frustration going down to a more bearable level.

“You’re so beautiful like this, you have no idea,” Derek mutters. “You’re doing great. Last time, okay?”

Last time, he can handle that, Stiles grits his teeth. He didn’t think it was possible but he is almost looking forward to having the cage back on.

Derek squirts more lube on his fingers and circles them around Stiles’ hole, while still slowly stroking him with the other hand.

“I’d love to fuck you with the cage on,” Derek says almost absent-mindedly as he thrust his digit into Stiles, effortlessly finding his sweet spot. “And you’d just have to take it, without being able to even get hard, I’d just use you for my pleasure…”

“Stop! Stop!” Stiles shouts in panic as he feels he’s about to come and Derek lets go of him immediately. Stiles screws his eyes shut in defeat as he realizes there is no stopping it now. His dicks spurts come all over his stomach but there is absolutely no pleasure in it; it feels as if the orgasm has been wrenched out of him painfully, leaving him empty and no less unsatisfied.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he mumbles, finally finding the courage to open his eyes, ready to face Derek’s disappointment.

“Oh, no, don’t be. You did great. I’m really proud of you, I know you did your best.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, even though he can tell Derek means it from the way he looks at him, nothing but admiration in his eyes, and it makes something loosen up in his chest.

“Absolutely,” he says seriously and then chuckles. “I bet that didn’t feel too good, though.”

“No, it really didn’t,” Stiles huffs, still struggling to wrap his head around that unsatisfactory spent feeling in his guts.

“Oh, well. Normally I’d say the week starts over now,” Derek says and raises his hand when Stiles’ mouth falls open in mute panic, “but since you didn’t get to enjoy yourself, I think we can call it quits.”

Stiles breathes out in relief. He doesn’t think he could last another week, as much as he enjoys it on some twisted masochistic level.

“Alright, wait here,” Derek says and Stiles rolls his eyes. He’s back a moment later with a warm washcloth and starts to meticulously wipe Stiles clean. Stiles enjoys the ministrations but Derek doesn’t linger and once Stiles is clean, he quickly puts the cage back on.

Only then does he finally untie the ropes, checking for damage and massaging his wrists gently. Satisfied, he snuggles close and throws the blanket back over them.

“Alright, ten more minutes.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! More tired than ever but here we go! A dinner with Stiles' dad.

“This was a bad idea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Derek says from the kitchen where he’s preparing a salad to go with their home-made burgers in infuriatingly calm and measured chops.

“I can’t do this. What the hell was I thinking? I’m nothing like he remembers. Look at me!”

“Stiles,” Derek tries but Stiles doesn’t pause his nervous pacing.

“And what are we going to talk about? I have nothing to say that isn’t completely pathetic and depressing. What a great light-hearted catching up that will be,” he rambles on and there’s slight note of hysteria, audible even to Stiles’ own ears.

Finally, Derek puts down the knife and wipes his hand on a towel. He comes slowly closer, as if approaching a spooked animal, and Stiles takes a few steps back. “I’m gonna text him and cancel it,” Stiles says, relief washing over him already as he reaches for his phone. He’ll say he got sick or something. He doesn’t have to do this right now. He’s not ready.

“Don’t,” Derek orders, not unkindly but resolutely, and Stiles stops halfway through the motion, blinking at him in surprise. It’s not often that Derek uses his Dom authority like this and Stiles finds himself physically unable to go on with his plan. “Don’t cancel just because you’re having a little freak-out right now. It’s okay to be nervous. But I know you want to make things right with your dad, don’t you? You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”

Stiles lets out a long breath and slumps. Derek puts a steadying hand at the nape of his neck and pulls him close, wrapping protective arms around him, practically immobilizing him and Stiles enjoys the feeling of security.

“There, better,” Derek mutters, and holds him until the last tension leaves Stiles’ body. “Do you still want to call it off?”

Stiles shakes his head against Derek’s chest.

“Alright,” Derek nods, apparently satisfied. “And you know what? You don’t have to talk about all the heavy stuff. I’ll talk about the weather for the whole evening if you want me to.”

“You making a small talk?” Stiles snorts, already feeling much more settled.

“For you? Anything.” Derek jokes and returns to chopping vegetables.

 

The doorbell rings at seven sharp and Stiles wonders if his dad has been standing outside the building just waiting for the clock. He comes up dressed up in his favorite dark grey shirt, a plate wrapped in tinfoil in his hand.

“I attempted to make cookies but I think I messed up the recipe. They’re not very good,” he says apologetically and Stiles laughs, feeling much lighter all of sudden. It’s his dad, the same man he’s known for all his life, his only family. Derek’s right. Of course he’s got this.

Stiles shows him around a little while Derek finishes serving the food and he notices him taking everything in critically. It occurs to Stiles that this is also very much an inspection of Stiles’ living conditions but it seems he’s passing the test. He even looks mildly impressed when Stiles shows off his gaming laptop.

As they settle down to eat, though, awkward silence takes over and Stiles tightens his grip on the fork so much it hurts. He needs say something, anything. But the longer the silence drags on, the harder it seems to break it and the stupider Stiles feels.

“The heat’s been awful, hasn’t it?” Derek says finally and Stiles gives him an incredulous look. He just shrugs and Stiles wants to kiss him right now.

“Oh yeah, I really hope it’ll rain soon,” his dad catches on, thankfully. “I had to water the garden every day. But you should have seen the strawberries I had this year.”

It goes smoothly from there. They talk about unimportant things like food and recipes, complain about traffic and weather, reminiscence a little. It’s nice. It makes Stiles forget the past year ever happened and it’s just like they used to be, when it was just Stiles and his dad.

The evening goes by quickly and soon all food’s been eaten, including the slightly dry and overly floury cookies, and Derek starts to collect the dirty plates.

“Why don’t you walk your dad to the car,” Derek suggests innocently and Stiles struggles not give him a betrayed look. “I’ll starts on the dishes.”

“Alright, yeah,” Stiles agrees, even though his heart immediately picks up. Stiles, just like Derek, is very much aware that his dad doesn’t need to be walked to his car. This is their chance to finally be alone and talk. Might as well get it over with, Stiles supposes, but his palms still get clammy.

They slowly make their way outside to where his dad parked his car.

“Aw, your good old cruiser,” Stiles leans against the hood of his dad’s car and takes in a lungful of the night’s warm air.

“Yeah,” his dad chuckles and joins him, leaning right next to him. “Still waiting for an upgrade.”

“Whatever happened to my old Jeep?” Stiles remembers suddenly. He loved that car, despite its many flaws and outrageous fuel consumption. And he left it behind, just like everything and everyone else, when Theo told him to get rid of that piece of junk. Why would he need a car of his own anyway, Theo said. Stiles left it parked in the drive-way and threw the keys in the mail box, sure his dad would sell it eventually. Not for parts, hopefully. It could still serve some kid well.

“What do you mean? I still have it, of course.”

“You do?” Stiles perks up.

“Yeah. I even washed it a few times. Come pick it up whenever you want.”

“Thank you,” Stiles laughs in disbelief. He carefully doesn’t think about what Derek’ll think and if he’ll allow him to have it.

Soon they lapse into silence, loaded with unspoken things, and Stiles knows it’s now or never. This is when he needs to stop pretending everything’s peachy, man up and acknowledge how much he fucked up and beg his dad’s forgiveness.

“Dad, I-“

“I wanted—”

The both start at the same time and then stop, waiting awkwardly. His dad has a pained expression on his face, probably eager to get whatever it is off his chest. He has never been much of a talker, not that great at verbally expressing his emotions and Stiles can only imagine how hard this must be for him.

“You first,” Stiles nods at him.

“Thanks. I just wanted to apologize. I wasn’t- I wish I was there for you more. Your mother, she would have been better at this. Maybe it’s because she was a sub as well, she just got it. I never thought I’d be the one to have the talk with you and so I just – didn’t. I was naïve and stupid enough to just think that when you’ll meet your significant other it’ll just be love at first sight and you’ll figure out the rest. Like your mom and I did. But I should have prepared you better. I’ve let you down and I’m sorry.”

Stiles’ brain shot circuits. Out of all the things he imagined his dad telling him, everything he braced himself to hear, this was not one of them. All coherent thoughts escape him and the silence gets heavier with every second Stiles just keeps staring.

 “I figured that’s why you hated me,” his dad shrugs and that finally spurs Stiles into action.

“What? No, no, no…. That’s- I never hated you. I didn’t want to send that message. He made me,” Stiles admits and if he expected some sort of relief on his dad’s face, he was mistaken. His expression only grows darker and Stiles’ stomach clenches in shame. _Weak. Pathetic_. But better let his dad know what a screw up he is than let him think Stiles hates him.

“Oh, Stiles,” he sighs and pulls him for a hug. Stiles freezes, his first instinct is to pull away, _doesn’t deserve it_ , but forces himself wrap his hands around his dad’s back as well and stay still. Small victories, he guesses.

“What was it you wanted to say?” his dad asks after a long time.

Oh. Right. Stiles kind of forgot, as safe and content as he felt in his dad’s arms. “I, uh. I’m sorry,” he says finally but it sounds hollow and lame. “I’m sorry I dropped out of college. I’m sorry I hurt you,” he adds.

His dad nods, his face serious, and Stiles is unspeakably glad he doesn’t just wave his apologies off, doesn’t tell him he has nothing to apologize for. “Okay. Alright. You are very much forgiven.”

Stiles feels a grin stretch on his face. It doesn’t matter if he’s just indulging Stiles, but hearing it said out loud makes warmth spread all the way to his fingertips and he lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad we had this talk,” he smiles, patting Stiles’ shoulder one last time and fishing out his car key. “But you should probably go help Derek with the dishes.”

“Yeah, can’t let him do all the work.”

“He’s a good one, isn’t he?” his dad nods up towards the windows of their apartment and Stiles feels his cheeks heat up, a goofy smile spreading on his cheeks.

“Yeah. He really is.”

“Well, I’m glad. Good night, Stiles.”

“Good night, dad.”

Stiles stays on the sidewalk and watches until the red tail lights disappears around the corner and then jogs back inside, a huge smile still plastered on his face.

 

Stiles has no trouble keeping his dick soft during the shower, his thoughts swirling around like crazy, replaying every word. As wired up as he is, it takes him a long time to finally get his brain to slow down and fall asleep but he doesn't mind, savoring the feeling of safety in Derek's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never driving to Italy again. You know what's worse than having to spend 10 hours in a car with two small children? Having to spend to 9,5 hours in a car that stinks like vomit! Funny story - my mom took the kids on the last morning so that I could pack and she had the brilliant idea to let my three-year-old eat a huge donut even though we don't let her eat sweets this early in the morning and definitely not before a 10-hour drive. And guess what, 30 minutes into the drive, my daughter starts puking everywhere - the car seat, her clothes, the seat in front of her, next to her, even on my husband who bravely tried to catch the worst of it while I was driving 80 mph on a highway. Oh well. Fun memories:)


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE LAST CHAPTER!
> 
> Fluff and some smut:)

The last few days of his punishment are the worst. Every morning Stiles wakes with his dick valiantly trying to get hard in the cage and it is the weirdest feeling ever.

On the morning of the fifth day, Derek makes good on his promise, turns him over on his stomach and fucks him into the mattress. It doesn’t take long but it still leaves Stiles trying to scramble away or at least angle himself so that Derek doesn’t hit his prostate on every single thrust. Derek isn’t having any of it, though, and he grabs Stiles hard by the hips and pins him down.

When it’s over, Stiles is quivering with utter and complete frustration, tears stinging in his eyes, while Derek gathers him in arms and soothes him patiently.

“You’re fine, I’ve got you,” Derek mutters and Stiles teeters between letting go and going down and throwing a tantrum to just get it off _right now!_

“It was a lot, huh?” Derek asks and Stiles just nods. “Alright. It’s just one more whole day. We’re not doing anything until then, okay?”

“Thanks,” breaths out and cuddles closer. Derek nuzzles at his neck, nibbling absentmindedly, and Stiles enjoys how it makes his skin break into goosebumps.

“Did you know the end of your punishment falls on the night of the full moon?”

“Oh,” Stiles frowns and looks at Derek with unease. “Are you going to - ?”

“No, no! I’m staying with you. We could all go out together, Laura and us. Your dad as well, if he wants to. Wouldn’t be a pack night without you. And then we’ll go home and you’ll get what you’ve earned,” Derek kisses him sweetly and Stiles shivers with sheer delight and anticipation

“That sounds nice,” Stiles mutters against Derek’s lips.

 

His good mood doesn’t hold long though. He tries to get some work done, get ready for the next week when he’s coming over to the office for the first time since his not-so-great interview but his thoughts keep turning sour and dark.

With a huff, he closes the computer. He’ll be fine. Probably. He doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself, when he’s finally got Lydia to agree to let him become a more stable part of his team and work from the office once a week. At least by Monday he’ll be out of this thrice-damned device, he thinks disdainfully.

He plops down on the couch, glaring at a single spot in front of him, just willing the time to go by. For this day to end. For the stupidly unfair punishment to be over.

“You’re sulking,” Derek observes and sits down next to him.

“I’m not sulking!” Stiles snaps. The flat look with Derek gives him drains some of his anger right away. “I’m just sitting here. All alone. Feeling sorry for myself.”

“Right,” Derek huffs a laugh and hums thoughtfully. “How about – do you want to go see the Endgame? The new release? That might take your mind off of things.”

“Really? You’d go with me?” Stiles straightens up immediately, all gloomy thoughts forgotten right away and there’s a slightly smug grin on Derek’s face that fails to hide as he gets his phone to buy the tickets.

There’s still a pang a melancholic sadness cutting through Stiles’ excitement, thinking about the comic books and movies they used to obsess about with Scott. They spent countless recesses fighting heatedly over which Avenger was the strongest (and sexiest). And all the plans they made to go the midnight premiere in costumes. It was supposed to be the _best night ever_.

“Are there any more free seats?” Stiles asks as an idea hits him. He’s pretty sure Scott has already seen the movie and but it only gets better the second time, right? And sure, Stiles has been ignoring Scott’s text and calls for a while now but he can’t keep being mad at him forever. That can’t be healthy; Dr Morrison would surely approve.

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you think – Would you mind if I ask Scott and Alison to come too?”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind. But I might have to yell at Scott a little for giving your number away,” Derek jokes. At least Stiles hopes he does.

 

Surprisingly enough, Scott is free in the afternoon and they meet a few hours later in front of the cinema. Stiles is wearing his Captain America t-shirt and grins when he sees Scott’s wearing an Ironman one.

“Not really a costume, but...” Scott shrugs and Stiles laughs, overcome with fondness that he remembered.

It’s awkward at first, with Scott throwing nervous glances towards Derek, who Stiles can tell does his best not to look too murderous. Luckily Alison, with her sweet smile and cute dimples, cuts through the tension right away.

“I’m so sorry for what happened, Stiles, but we’re glad you’re okay. Scott is an idiot and he would like to apologize, wouldn’t you, honey?” she elbows him.

“Yeah,” he mutters miserably. “I’m really sorry, Stiles.”

“It’s okay. It was for the best, I guess,” he shrugs and Scott slumps visibly. “So have you seen the movie already?”

“Are you kidding?” Scott laughs, clearly all too glad to change the topic. “Twice!”

Everyone accepts the truce and even Derek’s face softens. It’s not perfect but it is what is. They’re not kids anymore and maybe they’re not the best friends for life they used to be but life is messy and if Stiles keeps looking for perfection, he knows he’ll wind up alone.

Derek seems to approve, too. After the movie, when they part, each heading their own way, Derek throws a hand over Stiles’ shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple, and it’s more than any words could probably say.

 

As much as it seemed that it never would, the last day of his punishment finally comes and Stiles is jittery and unfocused right from the moment he wakes up. He has another therapy session in the morning but Dr Morrison soon gives up when she has to repeat the same question for the third time.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m having a hard time concentrating today.”

“That’s fine,” she smiles easily. She puts her notes down and leans back. “We can talk about anything you want. You have something exciting planned for today?”

Stiles’ cheeks grow hot and he catches himself looking down at his crotch. Exciting for sure. But that’s not something he wants to talk about. “Yeah, uh – We’re having a little get BBQ at my dad’s. For the full moon, you know.”

“That sounds fun. Is that your first full moon with Derek?”

“No, a second one, actually.” It feels unreal that it’s only been a month. How much has changed. Last time, he’s been half expecting Derek to maim him and ready to let him do it. And then he was convinced he’s seeing someone else and was _knew_ he deserved it for not being enough. He can’t help but shake his head at his past self.

“I feel like I was a different person, though. I was afraid a lot back then. I think I’m doing better,” Stiles says and it feels weird to acknowledge it out loud. “At least I think I am. Maybe in another month I will look back at this moment and be like – what was I thinking?”

“Maybe,” Dr Morrison laughs. “You need to give yourself time. You are moving in the right direction but don’t be too hard on yourself. I know you’ll get there, at your own pace.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “I think I will.”

 

Stiles helps his dad get their old grill ready. It’s covered in cobwebs and dust, clearly unused in the past year, but soon it’s all shiny and smoking again. The meat is already sizzling by the time Laura with Adam make it. Scott and Alison are already there, helping set up the table outside, with the moon already visible in the sky.

Derek goes straight for a hug, rubbing his cheek against Laura, nuzzling at her neck and inhaling her scent. It looks like such an intimate moment and Stiles averts his eyes. There’s no trace of the ugly jealousy he felt before, though. He knows now how important pack is for Derek and he steps aside to give him space.

Derek’s back a moment later, hugging him from behind, hooking his chin over Stiles’ shoulder.

“I’m fine, you know,” Stiles grumbles but leans into the touch anyway.

“Oh, I know. I’m fine, too. Right here.”

“Really? It’s okay if you want to – ”

“Laura’s my alpha but you’re my pack, too. Even more so,” Derek says softly. Stiles’ not the one to argue with that. Derek’s the werewolf and whatever he feels is right, Stiles will do, and so he just hums contently and presses even closer.

The burgers are delicious and his dad preens under everyone’s praise, beaming as he adds more on the grill, sweating slightly in his chef’s apron. The evening air is still warm and the night is bright, the full moon casting everything with enough light.

It’s late when they finally say their goodbyes but Stiles is not tired in the least. There’s a glint in Derek’s eyes as he leads him back to the car that makes Stiles’ stomach clench in anticipation. He feels like they can’t get back home soon enough but it seems Derek is driving infuriatingly slow, even though when Stiles glances at the tachometer, he sees they’re going at the speed limit.

Derek pins Stiles against the wall the moment the door bangs shut behind them, kissing him hungrily, kicking his shoes off without missing a beat. There’s a certain feverish impatience in the way Derek tugs Stiles’ shirt up and all but drags him to the bedroom but Stiles finds he’s not afraid in the least. Derek’s not going to tear him to shreds. He’s still going to stop if Stiles asks him to, Stiles knows that with a surprising level of certainty.

They’re both naked in record time and Stiles lets himself be manhandled on the bed. Derek straddles his thighs, looking down at him.

“I’m really proud of you,” Derek says as he oh-so-slowly takes the cage off. “I know it’s been hard on you but you’ve been so, so very good. And you have learned your lesson, haven’t you?”

There’s a moment of panic when Stiles can’t remember what the lesson was, as worked up as he is already and he looks up at Derek pleadingly.

“You will not do anything dangerous –” Derek fortunately helps him out.

“Oh, oh! I will not do anything dangerous or stupid or reckless behind your back,” Stiles hurries to say and Derek nods, satisfied.

“Right. But now let’s put this behind us. I forgive you and you deserve a big reward.”

“I, uh – I’m not gonna last long,” Stiles warns as he watches Derek uncap the lube. Only the idea of Derek’s hand on his dick, stroking it, makes him dangerously close.

“That’s fine,” Derek smiles. “We have a whole night in front of us.”

Before Stiles can figure out what exactly Derek means by that, Derek gives his dick a slow stroke and Stiles fists the sheets desperately.

“Let’s take the edge off first, shall we?”

With that Derek starts stroking him in long, purposeful strokes while a lubed finger breaches him and Stiles is reduced to a blabbering mess of ‘oh god’ and ‘Derek, please’.

“It’s okay, go ahead,” Derek encourages him and Stiles lets go, spurting come all over the stomach. It seems to go on forever, the orgasm washing over him so hard he feels he might have blacked out for a moment.

Once he’s completely spent, Derek lets go of his dick but adds a second finger, thrusting in and out leisurely, while humming appreciatively. The respite doesn’t last long, and soon Derek gathers the cooling cum of his stomach and uses it as a lube as he starts stroking Stiles again.

Derek’s fingers are soon replaced by the head of his dick and Stiles arches his back as Derek enters him in one powerful thrust.

Derek sets up a rhythm and it doesn’t take long for Stiles to get hard again. Soon he’s sweating and panting even though Derek doing all the hard work. The intensity of the second orgasm takes him by surprise. Pleasure ripples through him in waves, his muscles spasming, and he barely registers Derek coming too and then plopping down next to him before his goes completely boneless, his head spinning pleasantly.

Stiles doesn’t know how long they’ve been dozing but he’s woken up by Derek pressing tiny kisses on the column of his neck. It tickles and Stiles shivers with pleasure of it as Derek moves down his torso, licking and sucking at his soft dick, patiently bringing it to hardness again.

It takes a long time but Derek is patient and thorough.  The third orgasm feels like a punch in the gut, pleasure and pain both wrenching through him so hard it makes his toes curl up.

“Oh God, Derek,” Stiles wriggles as his dick immediately becomes oversensitive and raw. Luckily, Derek lets go off him and shuffles up, wrapping himself possessively over Stiles’ exhausted body.

“Okay, I’m done,” Stiles mutters, struggling to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t think he has a single drop left inside him.

“But it was fun, right?” Derek snuggles closer, nibbling at his earlobe.

“The cage? Oh yeah. But let’s not do it again any time soon,” Stiles chuckles.

“I guess you have to be a good boy then.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“You are. My good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done it! It's finished! I can't believe this is my longest fic yet but I had so much fun writing it. I know I've said it before but THANK YOU so much for being here. I've loved every one of your comments and kudos. Reading and replying to your comments is half the fun, seriously! I would have never gotten so far without your love and support.
> 
> Finally, this is not a goodbye. I'm already working on a new fic with lot of angst and hurt Stiles so feel free to subscribe. Take care and hopefully, see you next time!
> 
> Also, if you have a prompt or a plot idea for me, feel free to tell me (here or on tumblr). I might want to write some shorter fics before I'm ready to start a longer one again:)

**Author's Note:**

> You can also visit me at https://paxterhobber.tumblr.com/ to read more about me and my works and for good fic recommendations
> 
> Translation into Russian is available at: https://ficbook.net/readfic/8380693/21346671


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